Saving Hermione Granger
by dotheyreally
Summary: It's been nine years since Draco Malfoy had saved Hermione Granger from her death.  How will this one event affect the lives of Harry, Draco, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione? What will Lucius Malfoy think when he finds out Draco's been hiding from him all along?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Potter franchise. JK Rowling does. That is all.**

Wand in hand, the tall, lean, muscular boy walked over to the farthest corner of the Room of Requirement. He was careful not to step on the lifeless corpses of some of his schoolmates. The War was at its peak, The Order's men versus Voldemort's followers were at each other's throats, screaming spells, incantations, and curses. _I have to do this, _he thought as his heart hammered. _Father will finally acknowledge me as his son_. He gripped his ten-inch hawthorn wood wand tightly, but not with so much force to break it. His usually stone-cold face softened slightly, as if to accommodate tears. It had been a while since he had felt the salty droplets line his pale cheeks. But due to his practiced coldness and hatred, his tempestuous-like grey eyes would not allow it.

_Draco_, his father Lucius' voice echoed in his subconscious, _you must return home with the honor and approval of the Dark Lord. You know what we have been through. _Yes, he did know what his family had been through. His father's imprisonment, Lord Voldemort's clear disdain for his supposedly elite bloodline… He had been through so much. His heart (_do I still have one?_) felt the heaviness of the task he was given.

He continued walking and stopped in the middle of the room. He looked around at the dreary, melancholic, and quite gory setting of the place. Blood of the dead splattered across the once grey walls, broken wands scattered all over the floor, and the slight swaying of the grand chandelier as a slight breeze blew through the broken shards of the windowpane. _What have I gotten myself into?_

Draco resumed his timely yet careful stride and for once in how many months, he felt the slight giddy feeling of being on top. He remembered his eleven-year-old self almost befriending famous Harry Potter. He shuddered at the thought of _wanting _to be friends with him, or was it fear? He tiptoed towards the broken window and careful not to cut himself on the glass, he peered at the ongoing battle between The Boy Who Lived and The Greatest Dark Wizard of All Time. The wands meeting were magical. The rays of red and blue illuminated the dark while they were battling in the grounds. He saw his father Lucius talking with some of his fellow Death Eaters, Dolohov and Yaxley. And by the look on his face, he was scared as hell. _Funny how Father never really showed fear before_, the boy thought. And indeed, tension filled the air… so many questions unanswered, the fate of the winner undecided? Oh, when will all the lights just go out? Where was Weasley's deluminator when he needed it?

_Weasley, that blood traitor_, he thought angrily. He thought about the ginger boy's financially challenged family. _The rabbit family, breeding vermin non-stop._ All his life, he had hated the Weasel and the Potty, as he fondly called them. They were such show-offs and quite the favorites of the late headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. _A hundred points to Gryffindor for showing bravery and courage in the face of adversary, namely, the basilisk, _he mimicked Dumbledore's airy, calm, voice. He hated how he was so bad at getting honor. He couldn't even secure his father's own. He hated how he knew he was so intelligent, and that was just not by word proclamation. It was indeed truth. He was excellent at Potions and could Transfigure this and that, but he never really showed any potential because he was just fleeting to and fro, getting girls like they were options on the Honeydukes candy shelf. He hated how perfect Hermione Granger was the ultimate academic celebrity in Hogwarts. He hated how even his own Head of House, Professor Severus Snape, was less cold towards the Mudblood. The Potions master also gave her a grade of Outstanding. _Whatever happened to picking on the Gryffindors? Nice try, Snape._ He thought nastily.

Speaking of the mudblood, he took a few more steps and finally arrived at the setting of his task. Hermione Jean Granger dressed in a white button down shirt with stripes, long skinny jeans, and cerulean moccasins, lay faint on the floor. He witnessed her fall earlier when Greyback chanted _Expelliarmus_ a bit too strongly. Draco was actually quite surprised with the Death Eater's use of such a tame spell. _Why didn't he use Crucio, Imperio, or Avada Kedavra_? _Stupid half-wolf, really meant to be an animal. At least the werewolf curse could have spared him half a brain! He could've made my life easier._ He knew that the werewolf had no heart unlike Draco. He knew that even if he was quite a dark personality, he didn't and couldn't stomach killing a person, even if it meant killing his archenemy and his golden best friends, or a mudblood such as the girl lying on the floor near his feet. As he glanced at her slightly off-white skin tainted in light red blood (probably faded), he smirked at the thought of his twelve-year old self now. He remembered wanting the Heir of Slytherin to kill her. He said it with relish, even allowing a small but evil smile to line his pale red lips. He remembered Goyle acting too defensive about it and Crabbe fisting as Draco rambled on about Hermione's dirty bloodline. Up to this day, he still didn't get why his two henchmen were getting all defensive. Bollocks! She was a Mudblood, had they forgotten? Well, they'd always forget, seeing how stupid they really were. And after commenting like that, he regretted saying it to himself. They were actually scaring him, especially during the first few moments of the war, when they both turned on him, knowing how the Malfoy's reign of power was slowly dissipating.

"Draco," a voice floated across the area. He tensed up at once and slowly tilted his head to the right and then through his grey eyes looked for the source of the voice. But he did not see anyone but corpses. _Disturbingly brutal sight they were_, he thought. _Amycus Carrow must have done a splendid job. _ "Draco," the voice echoed, its pitch slightly rising, as if impatient in awaiting a response. "Who the bloody hell are you?" Draco replied, quite anxious and irked at the same time. "You have no right to speak to your father like that," the voice responded. "But a Malfoy trait, nonetheless."

The boy felt a lump in his throat as he side-peered at the muggle girl lying on the floor. He remembered how annoyed he was for her constant nagging and her constantly high-pitched voice, spewing "Oh, Ronald, you have got to study your Arithmancy!" or "Harry James Potter, where were you last night?" She was such a motherly prat, it was so annoying—

"Draco!" his father's disembodied voice interrupted his train of thought. "Were you even listening to a word I said?" "Repeat them once again, Father," his son replied. "I was too engrossed in my thoughts." And he suddenly reddened. _Engrossed in my thoughts? _He thought shockingly. _Nice answer, Malfoy._ "Engrossed in your thoughts? Are you losing your focus on this mission, Draco?" Lucius exclaimed icily. "Do you realize our reputation is at stake? Do you not wish to be one of the most worshipped families in the Wizarding World? Hell, even the Crabbe family wouldn't get it into their shell they call a brain, pun not intended, to remember who is head!"

_It was all about reputation_. Were his father not seeking anything _else_ but reputation? Never. It was always about the Dark Lord, always about destroying the boy wonder, speaking of the boy wonder, how was he…

"And here you are again, looking like a silly schoolboy who forgot his lunch money in his enchanted locked cupboard." Lucius cut in. "Funny you should remember such a thing, Father," his son shot back, tone icy like his Pater. "You have never been involved in my academic life. You have never even asked how I was back in school!"

Draco and Lucius were silent. His father took full form and appeared right before his eyes and he heard Dolohov and Yaxley exclaiming about where he Disapparated to. "How dare you speak to me that way? Do you know who I am?" his father growled menacingly. Draco couldn't help but cower in fear. He hated looking at his father when he was in his normal state: icy, cold, and quite nasty to be with. What more looking at him straight in the eye when his present persona could be likened to some beastly animal? He shuddered.

"Well?" Lucius snapped. "What are you waiting for? Do it!" Draco's hands trembled and his wand was shaking so much, the boy feared for its future breakage. "_Kill the mudblood_."

Draco's breath caught in his throat. Yes he did hate Mudbloods; they were the filthy sort after all. But _kill_? Did his own father think that was in his resume? _Well of course, it is sort of in my resume. I am a Death Eater after all_. But did he really want to be one of them?

"Oy, Lucius!" Alecto Carrow, sister to Amycus Carrow, shrieked. "You have to take a gander at this fight! Potter's weakening!" Draco's eyebrows shot up. _Potter was losing? How could that be?_ His father, although reluctant to leave due to his want to witness his son's first murder, disapparated and Draco looked to find that his father was back at the fight area. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He kneeled beside Hermione Granger and blindfolded her with his tie. He knew that if he had to kill her, he couldn't torture her. He just wanted to get it over with, however hard it may be. "Avad—"

"Harry?" she croaked. _Granger? Granger was awake? _ He casted a charm that changed his voice to that of Potter's and replied, "Yes, Her-Hermione?" It felt strange, her first name rolling off his tongue so smoothly. He was so used to calling her Granger. "Oh, you're still alive!"

Draco gulped. He knew Harry _was_ still alive, but his whereabouts at the time were unknown. "Did you defeat You-Know-Who yet?" she whispered. "Erm.. not yet, I just came to see you…" his voice trailed off. He glanced at her pale face. A small smile danced on her lips, as if she were finally in a place of peace. And oddly, Draco felt peaceful too.

She laughed quietly. "Sorry, I can't really think straight with this blindfold off. Speaking of which, why didn't you take it off when you saw me in this position?" "Er, Hermione, you should keep it on…" "Am I dying soon?"

"Pardon?" he replied shakily. "It's okay, you don't have to hide it… I just need to ask one favor of you and you must cooperate. Yes?" "Wh-" "Harry James Potter!" she exclaimed, her tinny voice echoing the dead (pardon the pun) quiet room. "Just say yes!"

"Oh, all right, yes!" he exclaimed, a bit annoyed at her somewhat energetic demand. She then kissed him, surprisingly precise. And for some reason, Draco kissed her back too. And although he knew that her minutes to live were limited, she kissed like there was no tomorrow. He felt like she knew she would live forever even if she wouldn't. There was so much passion. _Wow, damn good kisser she is! _He thought. _I never knew she could kiss like this… or me kissing her for that matter. _As she pulled away, he saw there were tears slowly falling down her cheeks. "I don't want you to leave me, Harry," she whispered. "Promise me that you will be holding my hand forever."

"Look, Hermione, just…" he croaked. She reached for his hand and squeezed it. "But you will be brave, am I right? Or else my constant nagging would not have been put to good use." She giggled. Draco uttered a sleeping spell and he saw that she had fallen back on the floor and out of surprising chivalry supported her head with his hand as he lay her down. He knew she couldn't kill her. He heard footsteps coming. _Father! _ He quickly chanted, "_Accio Remembrall!_" And indeed a small glass ball with gold trimmings appeared on his left hand. He put his wand near the temple of Hermione's head and retrieved several silvery wisps of memory and stored them inside the ball.

After he untied her blindfold, he lifted her off the floor and Disapparated from the castle. They landed in Shell Cottage, a slumbering Hermione in his arms. He slowly opened the door of the now empty abode and looked for a bedroom. He lay her there and tucked her in. With that, he aimed his wand at her temple.

"_Obliviate_."


	2. Chapter 1: Nine Years Later

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. **

"And that was how my Draco, my son, killed the last of the Hogwarts mudbloods!" forty-five year old Lucius Malfoy bragged to his fellow comrades. Now that The Dark Lord passed, it was now time for a new heir of Pureblood Dictatorship. Harry Potter had gone into hiding, Ron Weasley's whereabouts are unknown, and Hermione Granger was _dead_. Lucius Malfoy was now the new Minister of Magic and his old colleagues were his employees. The Wizarding World was indeed sealed off from the Muggle World. Idealistic, bright-eyed Muggle boys and girls can only dream of entering Hogwarts because protective enchantments and strictly enforced rules barred these children from entering. Muggle-born bloodlines were _strictly _prohibited from engaging in such forms of magic because Minister Lucius would not allow it. Purebloods and half-bloods were allowed on Wizard grounds but others who do not qualify stay _out_.

Twenty-six year old Draco Malfoy showed a tight-lipped smile as his form of reply. He did not really favor being shoved in the spotlight for a "crime" he committed. Killing someone did not really appeal to him as much as his father did. He excused himself from the crowd and entered one of their twenty bathrooms in the residence.

The Malfoy Manor stayed the same. Draco had remembered the night when his own home was used as Death Eater headquarters. It was an abode full of tension, strain, and anger. Evil seemed to circulate the entire house, making it not so much of a home. But now that the Dark Ages were over (or so they seemed at the time), the house welcomed much more light than usual. The winding marble staircase was still there, complete with the green and silver streamers that hung from the stairposts, making it clear which Hogwarts house they favored most. Gold trimmings lined the edges of the stair handles and the off white paint was still untouched even if age had aggressed itself onto the other features of the home. The floor was still a shellacked marble and the furniture was still as good as new. The guests were sipping elf-made wine from gold goblets and were munching on pumpkin pasties but who _cares_?

He turned the gold knob of the bathroom door, slipped inside, and locked it behind him. He walked over to the ivory sink countertop and glanced at himself in the China glass mirror in front of him. He had aged a bit from what he really looked like nine years ago but if you look past the years, nothing much had changed. He still had his perfectly platinum blonde head of hair that girls young and old still swooned over. His eyes were still the same stormy grey, like the tempest that was constantly around. His long, upturned nose that was used constantly for disdain towards Muggle-borns was still sharp as ever. His lips were still a pale red shade even if his wife Pansy Parkinson constantly kissed them.

_Pansy Parkinson._ He still could not remember why he was married off to Pansy Parkinson. Actually, his post-war life was a blur. All he remembered was a flash of white light that left him stone-cold yet for some reason calm and peaceful. He couldn't even remember how his father was launched to the position of Minister. All he knew was that he woke up one day to his future and this was _it._

He glanced at his skin, yes, no changes. It was still pale and he felt quite muscular given that he had buffed up a bit. He glanced at his fingers and there under the wandlight, his ring finger glinted with a silver band laden with diamond studs, indicating his vow of marriage to his wife.

The Dark Lord's, although dead, reign was still intact. Harry Potter and his best friends out of sight forever. The Draco Malfoy before would have been rejoicing and would have finally achieved the calm he had longed for his whole life. But a nagging feeling told him otherwise.

Shaking that contradiction off like brushing lint off his vest, he exited the bathroom and returned to the party. He shook his head knowingly as he really looked at the guest count of the celebration. Bellatrix was still there, cackling and babbling with Draco's mum Narcissa who threw him an exasperated glance. She smiled towards her son and at that moment a shaky feeling swept through his entire body. _Mum's never smiled at me like that before_, he thought. _It's oddly peaceful_.

It was true though, what Draco had mentioned. Narcissa Malfoy had not smiled, laughed, or even cracked a grin in sixteen years. Those were such Dark Times and it was such a miracle the woman could hold it together. Draco looked at his mother with sheer admiration, as the woman he finally saw right there and then achieved some sort of odd calm. And he couldn't be happier.

He moved on to the food table, where dishes of every kind of cuisine were laid like drying peanuts under the sun. Guests were piling up desserts like no tomorrow, for they knew that no kind of family will ever throw a festivity like this one, and actually for no important or even apparent reason. It was ironic how Lucius had celebrated Draco's first murder in such a festive way. Why would anyone want to celebrate someone's murder with popping cupcakes and firecrackers exploding everywhere? This was not New Year's Eve.

He then caught up with Lucius who was conversing with Pius Thicknesse and Alecto Carrow. One must remember Pius, for he was the Imperiused Minister of Magic during the era of Undesirable Harry Potter. Placed under the curse for part of Voldemort's plan to succeed, he helped eradicate most of the Muggle borns in the district of London. Alecto Carrow, once a Death Eater (and still is one), chatted happily while nibbling on hors d'oeuvres and giggled flirtatiously at Pius. _Ugh, how disgusting, the lot._

Draco stole a glance at his father. Who knew cold-hearted Lucius Malfoy would end up being the new Minister of Magic? Who could forget number one loyalist to The Dark Lord Voldemort? _He had aged, _Draco thought. _But nonetheless his handsome smirk will not disappear._ Lucius still had his long, silky mane and his cane, which stored his wand (retrieved immediately after Voldemort was killed by his own spell as it repelled Harry). Lucius, sensing that he was watched, looked toward the direction of Draco and nodded approvingly. Draco sighed inwardly. _I have waited twenty-six years for that nod, Father, thank you._

"Oh, Draco, darling!" a high-pitched voice overpowered the band playing. _Of course_. Twenty-four year old Pansy Parkinson pranced from the hallway and into his direction. Draco sighed and subtly rolled his eyes at his wife. What did he ever see in her that made him want to marry such a _troll_?

She was a few inches short of Malfoy's height and he laughed silently as he remembered Blaise Zabini whispered about "Pug-Face" Parkinson. Her hair was still in its signature bob from nine years ago when he last saw her, still dressed in her Slytherin garb. But it has increased in length and she had dyed it light brown. Well, she hadn't meant it to be light brown, but a platinum blonde, just like her husband's. The hairdresser got it wrong due to a mix-up of dyes. Draco smiled at the thought of his wife fuming and seeing smoke come out of her dainty ears. Those two ears were the only ones Draco had allowed himself to favor. The rest were ugly for some reason. She looked like a miniature man. Her nose was sharp and pointed but broken due to a nose surgery spell gone wrong. Her eyes were the size of dinner plates and they looked quite atrocious when she tried to gaze into his tempestuous eyes. Her arms were normally small but they were too limp and unfit unlike his muscular frame. Her stomach was not firm and it kind of grew a bit due to the Pumpkin Pasties she'd been having in excess. Her legs were like her arms, limp and thin. Her feet were huge! She was size 9, it was disgusting. She was nearing him and before he could drop the plate he carried, his wife jumped on him like a cowgirl trying to tame a wild bull.

"Pansy! What in Merlin's—" he was cut off due to his wife's huge, saliva-filled lips planting on his own. He pushed her off and she gasped. "Draco! That kind of behavior is only reserved for our bedroom!" she winked naughtily. Draco subtly rolled his eyes for the second time and Thank Merlin she didn't notice. Lucius smirked and Narcissa nodded approvingly. Color rose to Draco's pale cheeks as the guests turned to look at the couple. Pansy was grinning like a mad idiot while Draco had never felt more embarrassed in his entire life.

The rush of waves filled the quiet ambience of the cottage. The twenty-five year old woman who had slept so peacefully woke up to a blinding ray of sunlight. "Oh, bloody blazing— I must have forgotten to shut the blinds." She rubbed her eyes and pulled the covers off her. Dressed in her silk pajamas, she got up and slipped on her white sheepskin slippers. She sighed a peaceful sigh and walked out of her bedroom.

Honestly, she hadn't the faintest idea how she reached such a place. The first time she woke up nine years ago was in the form of a splitting hangover-like migraine but yet she carried no memories. The cottage looked all too familiar but she couldn't find the name in her mind. _It was beautiful_, she remembered thinking as she rose for the first time nine years behind. And indeed it was such a quaint and pretty sight.

The abode was two storeys high and was painted light brown. The interior design was smashing actually. The furniture looked quite cozy to snuggle yourself in plus it had a crackling fireplace that doubled as a floo traveler. The wooden floor gave off a woodsy feel and the stairs were also wooden but they didn't creak. The door was wooden too and it had an ancient-looking gold doorknob that was resting on the right-hand side of the door's exterior and at the left-hand side of the door's interior. The windows had gold blinds hanging from the top and the window locks were super secure. Yes, it was the perfect house for one to live in, but the question was, _how did I get here_?

That had been bothering her for nine years now. The last thing she remembered was that there was a war. And she instantly regretted thinking about such a memory. She remembered Fenrir Greyback disarming her as her eyes traced her wand's travel across the room and she felt a painful bang and a succeeding shot of pain on her back as she hit the cold, marble wall of the Room of Requirement then her mind went black.

Not that it mattered anymore. She was completely tranquil in her new area and she thought that it was a safehouse for her. She also worked for _The Daily Prophet_ _Online_ and contributed articles through the computer. She was so amazed at how _her_ world had progressed over this past few years and she laughed at how the Wizarding World still used quills for ballpens and didn't know how to use telephones (Sorry for that reference, Ron). Speaking of the Wizarding World, _how were Harry and Ron_?

It was strange enough that she hadn't visited Hogwarts ever since the war but it was another thing for them not to keep in touch. She felt like writing to them but a gut feeling told her she didn't need to. She walked to her windowpane from the center of the living room and sat on her duvet. She gazed at the sunlight glittering on the rushing waves and she felt a sudden calm flood over her. She finally felt that kind of feeling she had wanted to feel for such a long time. Thank God the war was over. _Or was it_?


	3. Chapter 2: A Cup of Tea And Some Scones

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

Draco nibbled on the edge of Mrs. Parkinson's scones. He never really liked them. Wait that was such an understatement. He _loathed _them. Yeah, that seemed like the better word to use. It was flaky, unflavorful (the old batty hag forgot to put the flavoring inside. _What's the point, woman?_), and a bit hard on the teeth. "Am I really going to eat this brick she calls a scone? I'd sooner have to cast _Densaugeo_ just to bite the edge off." He muttered. Pansy turned to his side. "What did you say, Draco?" she asked knowingly. "Oh, uh," he stuttered. "Nothing, dear. Carry on with your conversation." She giggled and kissed him on the lips. She pushed him down on the couch as she prepared him for a snogfest but his eyes widened at her closed ones and pulled away before she got into any more public display. "Drakey," she whispered in an attempt to sound sexy. "What's wrong?" "I told you before, I don't like the idea of public display." He replied coldly. Pansy frowned and wiped her lips. "You don't have to take that tone with me! I just wanted to express my love for you, that's all." She pouted as her mother overlooked their little spat and continued chatting with Mrs. Malfoy who looked equally bored like her son.

Draco sipped his Jasmine tea and sighed. _This was going to be a long afternoon_. He nodded curtly and pretended to listen to Mrs. Parkinson's "100 Ways To De-Gnome A Garden" among others. "Now, Draco," Pansy's mother babbled. "The gnome is equal to an ordinary house pest and if not removed immediately, they could multiply…"

_Oh my god, woman, stop gabbing! I'd sooner cast your entire mouth off with a hex!_ Draco thought maddeningly. Pansy put his hand on Draco's leg and tried to move it up. Draco pushed her hand away but instead swatted it swiftly.

"Ow!" she whined. "Treating me like a fly, are you?"

"Pansy, you are so stupid! Do you not understand my hating public display? I have explained it to you a thousand times over—"

"What's this I hear about public display?" Mrs. Parkinson cut. "Draco, you have to show public display of affection!"

"As much as I love your daughter, Mrs. Parkinson, she already knows about my being private." He replied politely. _Oh god, was I just polite? Draco Malfoy is never polite. And I never have to explain my actions._ He glared at his mother who looked remorseful for holding such an occasion. She glared back with an _answer her_. "Draco? Draco?" Mrs. Parkinson called out. "Did you not hear what I just said?"

"What did you just say?" he asked. "Sorry, I was busy communicating telepathically with my mother."

"Oh, I didn't know you could do that! So tell me how do you do such a thing?"

Draco smirked his famous smirk. _Wow, my lips haven't curved like this in nine years_. _Probably because this is only used when people make stupid comments. Pansy didn't need my smirk. All her comments were stupid, I wouldn't waste carving my handsome face. Even for her. _"Draco? Draco love?" Pansy was tapping him on his shoulder. "Why are you smirking like that? Do you feel naughty?" She smirked as she fingered with his tie and ran her finger down Draco's neck. "Excuse me, Mrs. Parkinson," he called as Pansy hopped onto his lap and began kissing him on his neck. "Have you taught your daughter any manners?"

Pansy pulled away from his neck and slapped his face. "What did you say?" Mrs. Parkinson dropped her teacup in shock as Mrs. Malfoy's mouth opened wide but her eyes screamed glee. "Draco Malfoy," Pansy hopped off his lap and frowned. "What is bothering you lately?" Draco knew that he couldn't answer that question and he knew the only way was to dodge it. He grabbed his wife and kissed her so hard, her lips were shaking. He pulled away quickly and said through gritted teeth, "Did you like it, darling?" Pansy's forehead creases disappeared and she yipped like a dog high on firewhiskey. Mrs. Parkinson seemed to forget Draco's rude comment and started laughing with Mrs. Malfoy who again rolled her eyes in annoyance and exhaustion. "So again, Draco dear, public display of affection is very important," Mrs. Parkinson declared. "It keeps a relationship or rather a _marriage_ healthy."

Mr. Parkinson walked into the room and Mrs. Parkinson got up… no wait, _jumped_ on him and started kissing him. Draco got up slowly but was pushed on the floor by his wife. Mrs. Malfoy laughed as his son was love-tortured by his spouse. "Pansy, for the last time, get your meaty hands off of me!"

"_The fumes intoxicated my nostrils as…"_ she typed on her laptop. Hermione was trying to write a full-length romance novel she was hoping she could submit to _The Daily Prophet_. Yes, that company did not only do newspapers but novels as well. She was currently experiencing writer's block and continued to gulp down her Pumpkin juice. She wondered how she could never leave the house and still sustain herself. Well, of course! Her magic!

_Hoot, hoot!_ Hermione got up from her seat and walked over to the kitchen. The place was just as quaint as the living room. The dining room had a wooden table with an apple tablecloth that she conjured up when she woke up in the cottage. It also sprayed apple scents every ten minutes to remove the smell of cooked food every after she makes meals. The chairs were green and retro and the cupboards were made of mahogany. When she woke up nine years ago, she checked the cupboards for food and she saw that there was so much more than what she had wished for. There were glass plates that cleaned themselves up and utensils that never rust even if they aged about a century old. There were wine bottles that constantly refilled itself just in case one was too depressed. The glasses were made of goblin glass and could transfigure into owls just in case you needed to send an urgent letter. The oven was silver and had every knob and button available. The countertops were made of marble and the towels were hung perfectly on the rack on the right hand side of the sink, which she loved. She was obsessive-compulsive and she liked how everything looked perfectly neat in its place.

She got a bag of Chocolate Frogs and munched on them. She loved how the chocolate lightened her mood. She wasn't depressed but she was apathetic. And that feeling was worse than being depressed. You have no emotion, you see.

Eating the sweet made her remember the first time she got on the train with Harry and Ron. She remembered how their first impressions of her had the words _snob_, _annoying_, and _uptight_ in it. After she had spent the whole seven years with them, they had grown to be the best of friends. They were The Golden Trio. She didn't mind being the only girl in the group. She loved how her two boy friends (take note of the space) looked out for her and watched out for her. She also remembered how she _changed_ as a person. She also loved how she finally stopped being such a bookish person and started to live _life._ She remembered happily how she punched Malfoy in the face.

_Malfoy. _What happened to Malfoy? The last time she remembered seeing him was when he was dueling with Luna Lovegood, a very weak contender she had to admit. She couldn't help but notice his different stance that time: shaky, paler than usual, and afraid. What did he fear the most? She'd always wonder. He had everything: a pure bloodline, a Gringotts vault full of money, and a bit of popularity with the opposite sex. She had to admit that she was jealous. He had a roster of girls chasing after him while she barely reached half of a parchment's foot. But who cares? He probably died.

"Oh, Malfoy," she laughed to herself. "I wonder where you are now? Probably hexing some muggle or getting frisky with another woman."

"Oh, Granger," a voice replied. "I never knew how much you missed me."


	4. Chapter 3: The Enemy Trespasses

**Disclaimer: HP, I do not own you. HAHA. I wish.**

**A/N: Thank you, ****Alex11215, please recommend me to your other friends! ;-)**

_The door burst open and it slammed into the wall. Lucius Malfoy, face looking victorious, found his son but no Hermione Granger. "Draco?" he called. "Where is the mudblood?" _

_Draco's heart leapt in his ribcage. He looked sweaty and pasty all over. He couldn't reveal what he just did. The word dishonor started to form in front of the younger Malfoy's face. _

"_Mudblood?" Draco repeated in reply._

"_Yes, Draco, the mudblood," Lucius said impatiently. "Am I saying anything otherwise?" _

_Draco shook his head weakly. He took a deep breath._

"_I killed her."_

Hermione Granger dropped the china teacup she held in her hand as she saw the person she least wanted to Apparate at that moment. Twenty-six year old Draco Malfoy was at the entrance of the house, signature smirk in place as he leaned on her doorframe with arms crossed, and his face towards her.

"M-m-Malfoy?" she stuttered.

Smirk still in place, he swept his platinum blonde hair to the side as he finger-combed. He walked with an air of loftiness as his grey eyes surveyed her cottage. He laughed echoingly as he saw the carpet. It reminded him of the carpet Mrs. Parkinson gave his mother during the day of the tea session. _Minus the tea, I can tell you that, _he winced as he thought of the events that took place then.

"Well?" Hermione's tinny voice interjected Pansy's pug face image in Draco's mind, making his wife disappear. Draco turned to look at her and he laughed at her outfit: pajamas and rabbit fur slippers. _Drab and super drab_.

"What makes you laugh like so, Malfoy?" she frowned, putting her hands on her hips as she looked at Malfoy questioningly. "You have not talked to me at all yet you invade my home."

Draco smirked and replied, "Oh, Granger, this is hardly your home." He plopped on the couch, took off his jacket and laid it on the armchair beside him. He loosened his tie and faced her with know-it-all features lining his face. "It's mine."

"Must you claim everything in this world as yours, Malfoy?" she asked fiercely. "Poor Ron Weasley can't even live up to pureblood status because of the stupid standards your family's put in."

"Do you always speak that way to a visitor, Granger? What respectable manners you have," Draco replied sarcastically. "Well, those are how Mudbloods are raised, so be it. I accept you for who you _are_."

Hermione's brown eyes flickered angrily. She grabbed a broom and started whacking him on his surprisingly toned body. "BLOODY HELL, WOMAN!" he yelped. "AM I A CARPET YOU WANTED TO TAKE OUT TO DUST?"

"OH SHUT UP YOU BLOODY—"

_Toned body,_ she thought. Since when did Draco Malfoy get such muscles? His white polo shirt gave form to his biceps and his taut stomach. Hermione Granger pulled her broom away as Draco Malfoy recovered from wincing. He was bruised all over. "Happy?" he spat. "I look like one of Loony Lovegood's dirigible plums! Well, more like destructed!"

Hermione Granger snapped out of her _brief_ trance and replied, "Well, you deserved it for calling me a Mudblood, you arse!"

"Aren't I speaking the truth?"

She held her broom at eye level, threatening him with another blow. Draco cowered in fear and said, "Fine. I won't speak the damn word. But mind you, I'm not some vermin, Granger. I _do_ own the house."

He grabbed his jacket snappily and with a _crack_, Disapparated from the area. Hermione sighed in relief, happy that her number one enemy was gone. She charmed her broom into walking back to its closet while she cleaned up the rest of the dishes she forgot to wash when she had her meal earlier. _Why had Draco Malfoy come to visit her?_

"Oh, my poor baby!" Pansy screamed as she hurriedly rushed down the stairs to find her husband black and blue all over. She slipped on the last stair and stumbled onto the marble floor. Draco stifled a laugh as his wife fixed her _too-revealing_ nightgown. Probably another feeble attempt at trying to bed him. How _amateur_.

"Pansy, dear, did someone tear open your nightgown?" he asked innocently. "Would you want Nadia to sew it for you?"

Nadia was their in-house maid. She was hired by the Malfoys long after Harry Potter freed their house-elf Dobby fourteen years ago. Pansy glared at him as he finished speaking.

"This is a classic given by the Wizengamot," she replied icily. "I was trying to tempt you."

Draco shook his head in pity. "Parkinson," he called. "You do not come running down the stairs in some ripped nightgown, _subtly_ trying to tell me you want to bed me and then tell me that you were going to bed me. Honestly, woman, quite childish of you."

Pansy gasped. "Draco," she neared him with angry eyes. "I sleep in this because it's comfortable and the wind that blows into our bedroom makes it quite breezy—"

"Breezy?" he repeated sardonically.

He bit back his succeeding statements.

Pansy didn't seem to mind as she went on. "But if you wanted me to bed you…" she winked seductively, opening her buttons.

Draco shuddered.

"No. I'm bruised all over, can't you see?"

"We haven't made love in six months, Draco! I miss my head on your chest and the way you…"

"Stop talking, Pansy. I'm turning green and I'm sure it's not because of envy. Goodnight." He Disapparated and left a shocked Pansy, jaw hanging like a mangled fish.

"Yes, that will be one slice of pepperoni," she said into the telephone. "Oh, no more condiments will be necessary, thank you… oh, wait, mind if you add some hot sauce? Thank you very much. I'll be expecting my order in forty minutes."

She put the phone back to its holder and walked over to her bookshelf to retrieve a new Runes book along with her old notebook. She missed her Ancient Runes class. She sat down on the couch and began flipping through her notes when she found a protruding piece of paper sticking out of the coffee table in the living room. She retrieved it from the place and found it to be a crumply, faded brown parchment. She opened it and she gasped. Malfoy _was_ not lying. But the problem is… is how did he get that cottage from the owner?

"_Weasley, please." the hooded figure pleaded with Bill Weasley at the Leaky Cauldron. "Look, why would I do you a favor?" Bill asked loftily. "You and your family have tortured us Weasleys endlessly."_

_The hooded figure let out a desperate sigh. He cannot go on with this mission. The war was nearing and he could not do what he was asked. Even for the Dark Lord. "Weasley, I'll be willing to pay you anything…" "Malfoy, what's the catch if I give you the cottage?"_

_Draco smirked, his left eyebrow raised. "What catch, Weasley? There's no catch." "Oh wait," Bill raised a finger as he laid his firewhiskey down on the table. "Why do you want my cottage exactly?" Draco inhaled sharply. "I want it to be a safehouse for myself, really," he lied. "I need a place to get away from, you know, after the war."_

_Bill looked at him suspiciously. He watched Draco nervously take his bottle of Butterbeer and took a long, shaky sip. He set his bottle back on the bar table and sighed heavily. "What are you looking at?" Draco snapped when he caught Bill staring at him. "Watch your tone, Malfoy," he replied coldly. "I own the cottage, you know." Draco bit back the expletive he was about to retort. A five-minute awkward silence followed._

"_You're not telling me the truth, Malfoy," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't believe your safehouse bit. Why do you want my cottage?" Draco watched longingly at the movements Bill made as he shook the keys in front of the young Malfoy's face. Out of desperation, he blurted out:_

"_I need to protect her."_

Draco woke up with a start. He rubbed his eyes out of exhaustion and stared at the Wizard clock swivel to the number 3. It was 3 AM and he was staring at his wife's face, hair strewn all over the place and her arms blocking her eyes. He had one of those dreams again. Why had he said those things? He _hated_ her. _Loathed_ her. Why did he have to _protect_ her? Was he speaking in opposites now?

All his life, he hated mudbloods. They were dirty, inhumane, people and should _never_ be mixed up with wizards. Ever. _At least that was what Father said._ He slapped himself.

"Hnnngrghhh…" Pansy stirred. "Draco?"

She felt around the bed and her hand landed on his naked stomach. She grinned inwardly. He slept half-naked again for the second night.

"Did a fly bite you on your cheek or something?" she muttered.

Draco realized his slap woke his wife up.

He didn't answer.

This time, Pansy slowly rose from her sleeping position and rubbed her eyes.

"Why are you awake at 3 in the morning?" she whispered. "Do you want me to put you to sleep?"

She stroked his perfectly sculpted shoulders in an attempt to put him back to slumber. And as much as he hated the way his wife's hands felt rough against his smooth skin, it got him back to sleep. And for that, he was grateful.


	5. Chapter 4: Just Visiting

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. ****:-)**

"Good morning, Granger!" Draco exclaimed. Hermione Granger squealed due to fright. She covered her body with her quilt and glared at her enemy's tempestuous ones.

"Do you think it's Halloween everyday? Think it's funny scaring the wits out of people?"

Draco smirked as he glanced at her arms. They were toned and built, unlike his wife's own. Funny, she never showed that much of her body. Well, of course he had to blame the thorough covering of her Gryffindor robes. And he wasn't part of the ones who were gawking at her as she descended down the stairs at the Yule Ball in their fourth year.

_Wait, how did I—_

"Lingering, are you, Malfoy?" she smirked. Draco's pale cheeks tinged red but he kept a cool stance. "Stop flattering yourself, Granger," he replied. "For all I know, I wouldn't want to see what's under that cover you hold."

He stood up, fixed his white polo sleeves, folded them twice on each side, and fixed his collar. He brushed some imaginary lint off. "Why are you brushing yourself? I just vacuumed this area yesterday."

He turned to face her. "Well," he sneered. "I wouldn't want to get mudblood all over my new crisp shirt."

Hermione's jaw dropped.

"Shall I refresh your mind with the incident from two days ago, Malfoy?"

"I don't expect it to happen, seeing as I am across the room and you are in your short nightie which is a bad excuse for sexiness, I must say. How on earth are you going to get a broom? Go downstairs in your nightie? You are already covered in that rag you call a comforter in my presence. Do you think I should turn around and not peek? Actually, I don't need to peek. I wouldn't want to subject my eyes to such a horror."

"Are you done with your soliloquy?" she stared hard at him and Draco noticed a broom in her hand. She had a light pink nightie on matched with pink pajamas. "And mind you, I don't dress like your Slytherin hussies!"

She waved the broom like a flag and Draco laughed at the sight of his nemesis.

"Granger, is it not too late to send you to Saint Mungo's? You've gone mudblood mad!"

"All right, that's it!" Hermione lunged at Draco Malfoy like the last book Flourish & Botts could offer.

He missed her broom whack and drew his wand out to say, "_Expelliarmus!"_ The spell hit the broom precisely and it flew out of her hand. It was totally wrong for him to do that because he knew that after that…

The bookworm's wrath was unleashed.

"_Accio_ wand!" she chanted and in her right hand the ten and three-fourth inch vine wood (with a dragon heartstring core) wand appeared, ready for a duel. "You think it's so funny to mess with me? STUPEFY!"

Draco's body hit the hardwood wall and the hung pictures of Hermione's best friends Harry and Ron fell along with her nemesis.

He recovered and screamed "_Densaugeo!"_ Hermione retorted with "_Finite Incantatem!"_ and the spell was revoked.

Draco ran up the stairs and into the attic. He could hear Hermione's dainty but nimble footsteps on the stairs preceding his destination. He pulled down the string that revealed the attic stairs and climbed only to find that the door was locked.

He chanted, "_Alohomora!_" and the door swung open. He quickly shut the door behind him and countered the opening spell with "_Colloportus!_" and the door's locks shut themselves up. Draco panted and slumped down onto the wall next to the door due to exhaustion.

"_Deprimo!" _Hermione's tinny voice echoed near the stairs of the attic. _Deprimo? That's new. What does that—_ And to answer his question, the door swung open and the blast caused him to fly across the room and crash onto the hardwood floor. He winced in pain as he saw Hermione step in. "I thought so," she sniffed loftily. "I always knew someone as _stupid_ as a Malfoy would end up in an attic I could obviously spot." She stormed towards him and Draco chanted, "_Impedimenta_!" at Hermione and she tripped, causing her to fall on top of him.

"How convenient," he whispered into her hair. "A mudblood trying to win her way to the top to try to beat a pureblood." Hermione tried to get up but was held down by his grip on her waist. She met his eyes and she tried hard to tear her gaze away from him. Silence took over and she blushed as she felt his hands on her waist and it suddenly felt very comforting. Realizing an involuntary yet stupid feeling, she slapped his face and out of pain, he let go of his grip and she fell on the floor. She got up to see Draco's eyes looking at her in beguiling yet cruel amusement.

"That took a while."

"What are you implying, you arse?" she snapped, her hands planted on her hips and her wand safely levitating above her right shoulder. With her left hand, she grabbed her wand and aimed it straight at Malfoy's face.

He smirked and said, "Why did it take you so long to get up? I could've sworn you were staring into my eyes. Attracted to me, are you?"

Hermione's cheeks turned red as she recalled the memory of their ten-second fall. "If you think that I, of all people, would ever like you or your eyes, I would rather I get killed by an _Avada Kedavra_ that you incantated rather than suffer watching your excruciating features."

Draco got up and stared hard into Hermione's brown eyes. "You are going to regret saying that, Granger. I swear you will." He disappeared with a _crack_.

And since then for two weeks, he just didn't come to visit. He hadn't come at all.

"Look," a twenty-six year old man turned to the side of the windowpane. "I can't help you. Go away." A tinge of light yellow hair flipped to the side. "Listen up, boy wonder," the other voice spoke. "Hell, why were you even called boy wonder? You have got to save the Wizarding World from the Dark Lord. It's the only way."

A scarlet light emitted from the forehead of the man facing the windowpane. He glanced at the falling droplets of dew. It was four in the morning and the clouds started to welcome a bit of water to descend upon the sleeping city of Leeds. "Stop calling me boy wonder, Malfoy. It's not helping. I failed to kill the Dark Lord and you know it."

"Look, Potter. Nine years ago, you thought that the petty Expelliarmus charm could save your scarred forehead and your arse against the Dark Lord's Killing Curse—" "It worked twice already!" he slammed his fist on the sidetable beside the window. "How was I supposed to know it would fail at the Hogwarts War? They've always said 'third time's the charm!'" "If you were against another _charm_, Potter. Honestly, I have always wondered why Flitwick never failed you."

"Have you done what you swore me you'll do?" he asked.

Draco turned to face him. "And what would that be?" his _former_ nemesis (at the moment!) asked innocently, even if he knew what the answer was.

"To protect Hermione."

"Yeah," he looked at the window. "Look, why couldn't you make me kill the mud—" he stopped to see Harry's misaligned spectacles glaring at him, his emerald pupils glinting like the light that emits from the wand that chants the Killing Curse.

"Sorry now, your eyes spell Avada Kedavra," he cleared his throat. "Looks could kill indeed."

"I love her so much," Harry admitted. "And I thought that me keeping away from her would be such a great idea."

Draco saw Harry's eyes and it was so full of love, it was sickening.

But it also hit a small part of him. He'd never feel that way for Pansy. _Ever_.

"She loves you too," he said aloud.

Harry's head jerked to face his nemesis.

"Oh really? And you're not just saying that?"

Malfoy shook his head truthfully. Harry eyed him suspiciously.

"Wait, how did you know that?"

Draco gulped. He hadn't told her that Hermione kissed _him_, not Harry and that she confessed her feelings for him at the time. He was stuck in a cul de sac. He ignored the question.

"Yes, I did protect her," Malfoy replied. "In that cottage Bill Weasley and Delacour had. I bought it from them years ago for Granger's safehouse."

Harry did not smile but gave a respectful nod.

"Thanks, mate."

Draco nodded accordingly and probed him. "So, is that all?"

The scar glinted, but this time, a much fiercer scarlet than before.

"No. One more thing," he said.

"What?"

"I'm going to find the noseless demon."


	6. Chapter 5: Lucius

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. **

The Senior Malfoy trodded across his room in the Manor and flipped earnestly through some old tomes that he had kept over the years. Although his new pureblood "kingdom" was doing quite well, people were just complaining.

Believe it or not, the Muggles were a really big help in their World and Lucius taking them away was a big mistake. He had then released a decree (#5560, but again, who's counting?) that ordered those who complain will be deemed _Muggle supporter_ and therefore be kicked out of the Wizarding World. And from then on, no one uttered the vile word.

Lucius refocused on the page he had landed on. He realized he was reading pages from his father Abraxas Malfoy. He sighed deeply. He was finally going to read the—

And a piece of parchment fell to the ground.

Lucius gently placed the aging book on the pinewood desk he had and bent down to pick the paper up. It was crumbly and rough to the touch and when he felt around it, he landed on something waxy and in turn there the Malfoy seal was.

_Whatever is this? _He wondered as he scanned the outside of the paper. He saw, written in calligraphic quill penmanship:

6th December 1987

_This must be about 20 years ago! _He exclaimed inwardly. Hurriedly, he opened the letter and in it was quite a surprise.

Lucius,

When you read this, I have either been so stupid for myself to let this out so soon or I must have passed away. Hopefully, the latter is much more acceptable. I know so, actually, since I'm not as lightheaded as you are.

"Oh, yes, take it out on me, Father," he rolled his eyes as he whispered softly in the study. He hated how his father's euphemisms never seem to hide its true yet cruel meaning. Why couldn't he just stop using euphemisms? Honestly, a Malfoy will never go wrong with asserting straightforwardness. It was power, after all.

Anyhow, I hope you are successful (which I doubt very much) but if you are, I'm now turning in my grave. You must have been a failure already.

His eyes narrowed as he took a look at the sentences he was focusing on. _Failure_? Come now, he was Minister of Magic after all. He sighed heavily as he remembered the brutality he had endured for so long until he ran away.

And stop thinking about my cruelty. Even if I am a non-living organism, I can still read your mind, Lucy.

_Lucy? Really? Abraxas, you stupid git. You couldn't even tell the difference between male or female! Merlin, if you had seen my hair right now, you would go on buying the latest dress and gown and stupid garb or whatever!_

Stupid git? Really? Oh come now, Lucy, you are so much better than that.

Oh, forget it.

How is Draco? I'm assuming you're treating him as badly as I thought you would treat him. Why had you wanted a son in the first place? Or a child for that matter, if you were going to push him around, like a cart that woman pushes in the Hogwarts Express? Actually, you are far worse than that nice old woman. At least, she makes children happy when pushing the cart. Merlin, she makes the cart high from all that sugar!

_Because you had treated me the same way_. Lucius knew that he shouldn't have treated Draco like that in the first place: sneering at him, calling him names… As he pondered, he thought of how different Draco would have turned out if Lucius hadn't done those things to him. He would have been—

"A sissy prat!" Lucius exclaimed, recalling Abraxas' reason for tormenting his son. He remembered every time he would be snarled upon or maltreated (no beating, of course. Honestly, the Malfoys were way above that savage act), Lucius would always ask, "Why, Father, why?"

"So you won't be a sissy prat, of course!" Abraxas jeered, his grey eyes full of mockery and cruelty. Lucius, his silky platinum blonde hair cut short, would run away and approach his mother who would offer nothing but comfort. This, however, had been Lucius' temporary sanctuary for two things: first, his mother would always submit to Abraxas, leaving Lucius with no supporters, and second, Hogwarts was his comfort zone.

_Hogwarts? I had always wondered myself why I found that old ruin a home._ Even if he tried so hard to push the answer far, far back into his mind, the answer would always come running back. "I had power," he involuntarily uttered.

He remembered the time in Draco's sixth year when his son was put on a mission to kill Albus Dumbledore just so Voldemort could sadistically see the downfall of the Malfoys, the purest of the pureblood families. He hated the feeling of being such a _write-off_. He remembered eavesdropping on Draco's losing power over Crabbe's and Goyle's sons during the Wizarding War in their last year. He had sworn never to see Draco in losing power again.

It's been a good fifteen minutes, Lucius. I knew you always had your mind somewhere else. Are you daydreaming?

Abraxas, right as always.

If ever you had treated Draco so badly because of me

And the letter stops.

_Abraxas? Say something!_ Lucius shook the paper violently as if invisible ink could be shaken off. He took a second look at the letter and there were faded words he couldn't _possibly_ read.

"Oh, Abraxas!" he muttered. "For once, you had finally been interjected."

"Father, are you still mourning the death of Grandfather?"

Draco's head popped into the doorframe of Lucius' office.

He looked concerned.

"It's been ten years, you know."

Lucius took a good look at his Junior. Draco was extremely handsome for a Malfoy and even in his late twenties still had that youthful vibe emitting from him. His hair was still platinum blonde, gelled up like in his second year. His eyes, tempestuous as always, but seemed to give off a pacified look. His nose, slightly upturned and sharp. His lips had finally gone to a slightly darker shade of red unlike his young self who only had pinkish-white hues. He was tall and wore a suit made of the finest material. His wedding band rested on the right ring finger and Marvolo Gaunt's ring on the left hand. It was a family heirloom. He was now proud to call him his son.

"Father? Are you all right?"

Draco walked over to his blankly staring father and tapped him on his right shoulder twice.

"Why were you looking at me? Do I have a lint on my new suit or something?"

Lucius smiled for the first time in twenty years. "Nothing, son."

Draco's heart ballooned in his ribcage. 

_Finally_.


	7. Chapter 6: Ron Weasley

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. ****:-)**

It had been nine years too long before twenty-six year old Ron Weasley had seen the outside of the earth. Not just the Wizarding World, but the outside world itself. He had been in hiding for seven years and no one, not even his best friends Harry (_where was he?_) and Hermione (_is she dead? Oh no, I heard she was!_) knew his whereabouts.

He (just him, not the entire Weasley lot) had been in hiding due to his best friendship with a Muggle (he daren't say _mudblood_). Yes, the accusation was quite _implausible_ but it was Voldemort's orders to have him killed while someone else handled Hermione. _Probably the prat Bellatrix_, he thought angrily.

But now, he felt safe but quite lonely. He hadn't connected with _anyone_ (again, due to his hiding) and not even his family (yes, should've mentioned that earlier) kept in touch because they couldn't find him. Well, he had his sources. _Potterwatch_ was still on through his Deluminator (they were also looking for Harry Potter) and through the news, it wasn't really great to hear.

"That prat Lucius!" Ron cursed. "Muggles not allowed in the Wizarding World! How absurd Not even… that git."

He hated how unfairly Muggles were treated. He hated The Malfoys, most especially Draco, since they've been at each other's throats since the beginning of time (well, actually, ever since Lucius accusing his father Arthur of being a blood traitor and Draco poking cruelly at their family's financial status). Most especially, he hated the Malfoys due to their torturing Hermione Granger in their Manor care of their mad relative, Bellatrix Lestrange.

_You could say Azkaban unhinged her pretty well_, Ron sniggered inwardly.

Then he felt lonely again.

"How fun can jokes be when you don't have best friends to share it with?" he sighed.

Again, it's been nine years since Ron had seen the light of world's day, let alone see his best friends' faces. He had last seen Hermione retreat to the inside of Hogwarts during the War and Harry lighting the sky with Voldemort during their Duel.

Now, fast forward nine years later, and everything still seemed the same.

"Oh of course, everything's the same! I'm here in Scotland!"

He'd gotten a small cottage in the countryside (beyond the outskirts) and had conjured everything up for nine years, from groceries to toiletries. He was not to go out of the area, fearing that the Death Eaters were still around. But come now, it's been nine years. Voldemort's dead. Lucius Malfoy's in power. Bathilda Bagshot rose from the graveyard. No, that was just a crack.

His cottage was quaint but better than The Burrow. He had really great interior design and the place looked spacious even if the abode was one storey high. He had hung several pictures of himself with his family, with his best friends, and with Dumbledore. How he had missed those moments!

Pain shot to his chest when he remembered the fact that Hermione Granger died. He hated how straightforward _Potterwatch_ could be in handling news of deaths.

"Hermione Granger was killed through the use of _Avada Kedavra_, what else?" River, or Lee Jordan, announced fresh after the Wizarding War ceased. "But no trace of blood or torture whatsoever. How vile of me to say such a thing but she died quite a peaceful death."

_How odd, really_,Ron thought. _How could Hermione's killer not torture her? Okay, that seemed like such a brutal thought. Hermione, forgive me. _Ron went over to the small wooden bookcase he had conjured up. It stored his textbooks from when he was a student and some albums of photographs. He took _Advanced Potion-Making_ out of its place and flipped through it.

His heart lightened as he remembered the day he got that book, still new and unfrayed. He and Harry raced to get the better copy with his best friend ending up with a much uglier yet quite informational book. Now, as he looked through the pages, he wouldn't have minded taking Harry's. The tome had yellowed pages and was dog-eared and torn at the side. It smelled of age and a tinge of cedar, an odd-smelling combination for such an old book.

He saw little scribbles and doodles of his favorite Quidditch team, The Chudley Cannons, and of course, scribbles from his best friends. Slughorn wasn't much of an interesting talker.

Give me your copy. –Harry

No. I got it first, mate. –Ron

Stop squabbling, you two, and pay attention! –Hermione

What did you say, 'Mione? Can't read your handwriting. –Ron

Yeah, can't read it. –Harry

Are you being sarcastic? – Hermione

The scribbling stopped. Slughorn caught them moments after but favoring the Golden Trio, decided to let them off with a warning. Actually, he never gave them detention, however noisy they were. Well, Hermione wasn't really noisy but her two best friends had gotten her to be caught in with them.

Now, there was no room for fun and games. Why? He had no more best friends to laugh with and mock Voldemort's nonexistence. He had no reason to celebrate peace. He had no reason to torture Harry endlessly with his perpetual crush for Hermione. He had no _reason_.

His stream of consciousness was interrupted when he heard a squawk. He briefly remembered Hedwig and her untimely death. _That stupid Death Eater_, Ron thought hotly. But the owl outside squawked persistently. It had a message.

Ron opened the windowpane slowly and carefully, peeking through the cerulean curtains and saw that there really was an owl. He opened the window handles gently and quickly got the small parchment from the animal and gave it some Sickles. It pecked happily on his palm and flew without another sound.

Ron cautiously yet excitedly opened the paper and six words finally gave him a reason to move.

**He's still here. Tell no one.**


	8. Chapter 7: Push

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. **

"Drakey!" Pansy called from the dungeon. "I found some of our old photographs here! Why ever did you put them in such a dreary area?" Draco rolled his eyes as he scanned through some Pureblood pamphlets. He hated how tinny and screechy her voice was. It sounded like rats scrambling on some old laundry thing that Hermione Granger had in her cottage. _Wait_, _how did I remember that?_ He brushed away the thought quickly. But his conscious mind could not accept just brushing away some thought. It was no ordinary thought, it was a thought about a _mudblood_ he disdained.

_How could I remember such a mudblood thing? _

"Stop thinking it, Draco," he said calmly.

_Really, a laundry whatever? How in the world—_

"I said stop it." He repeated, a little bit irritated with his conscious.

_Is that the only thing I remember? What about that kiss nine years ago? I haven't had a kiss so great in so long—_

"Honey?"

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

Pansy recoiled. "I'm sorry…"

Draco dropped his pamphlets and went over to her. "Darling, I—I didn't mean what I said…"

Pansy stood still, her less than fabulous (but still acceptable) figure stoic. "What's your problem?" she said icily. "You've always been so terse around me, telling me to go away…"

Draco approached her and hugged her. Pansy's arms stood sideways at first, but Draco's firm grip got her reluctantly wrapping her arms around his body. Pansy put her right hand on his head and ran her fingers through his hair. They were in an intimate position for ten minutes and he smiled at her, "Tell you what," he ran his fingers through her hair. "I'll take you out to dinner tonight. And maybe get some sweets at Honeydukes."

Pansy chortled. "Honeydukes? Draco, that's near Hogwarts."

"Diagon Alley opened up a new branch right down the street from the restaurant. Be ready in ten, okay?"

The sun had set in the Malfoy Manor and evening was to take its place in twenty minutes. Pansy let go of Draco's grip and she ran off to her room, fantasizing the first few days of their married life.

Draco smiled as he looked at his wife. He knew that despite her flaws, he loved her anyway. She always had _sweet brown hair_ that curled ever slightly at the sign of rain droplets…

"Wait, what curl?" he wondered. He pushed the thought away and this time, he was successful. He gazed at a small glow coming from his desk. He didn't need to know what that was because he did. And it suddenly hit him, weird as it was. He hadn't seen Hermione Granger in a month.

_Not that it mattered._

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione sighed as she saw the mixing bowl at the right side of her oven. "I must have mixed the wrong ingredients again." She took her apron off and sighed, frustrated. The ingredients were running out.

Yes, it was such a surprise for nine-years ago Hermione Granger to see a chockful of supplies in every cabinet and corner of the cottage, supplied by a mysterious supplier and now that nine years had suited her well, the ingredients had finally reached its mortality rate.

"Bloody hell! Where can I get ingredients—"

She snapped her fingers.

"Diagon Alley! Of course! Why didn't I think of that?"

She changed into a pale red mini dress and sported some two-inch heels. She nabbed her purse from the coat rack and Apparated in front of a familiar yet ordinary building. She smiled as she remembered their last year when they snuck into Diagon Alley to change clothes. She remembered her bottomless pit of a purse and frowned slightly as she remembered leaving the Manor without it. She remembered how she could have saved Dobby with her dittany and she remembered Bellatrix inscribing the word _Mudblood_ bloodily and painfully on her right arm. She glanced at her arm and saw nothing but faint traces of the horrible word…

She shook her head. The past was past.

Draco glanced at his wife as she browsed the menu in L'Champain, the first bistro in Diagon Alley. He knew that they shared a more than usual intimate moment hours ago in his room but he felt a sort of emptiness as the hours passed during their dinner. It's not that he didn't love her, he did… _right_?

As they finished dinner and headed for Florence Fortescue's, he realized he still didn't love her as much she loved him. But he denied such a thought. It was probably just because she was too _needy_ or the fact she couldn't kiss as much as Hermione…

"Can you shut it?" he muttered snappily.

Pansy turned to face him. "I didn't say anything! Whom were you talking to?" she eyed him suspiciously. Draco rebounded and replied, "Oh, no one, dear, really."

"Don't you have work tonight?" she asked.

"Yes, I do." He replied.

"Can't you skip it?" she batted her eyelashes flirtatiously. Honestly, she was bugging him all over again. _Oh, get over it, woman. Flirting's for schoolgirls and clearly, you are much older than a schoolgirl._

"No." he said flatly.

"Not even for me?" she neared him as they were walking down the alley.

"Pansy…" he rolled his eyes subtly.

"Oh, all right," she sighed huffily. She then pulled him slowly by the tie and said, "You know, I could always visit your office and…"

She winked.

Draco laughed nervously. "Darling, I'll be patrolling an area tonight. I'll see you in the morning, okay?" He kissed her on the cheek. She snogged him on his lips right back.

"Pansy," he sighed. "What did I say about PDA?"

"Sorry, the mood's in control. See you, bad boy."

And his wife Disapparated with a crack.

Draco Disapparated as well and landed in Shaw Street, near the entrance of Diagon Alley. He needed to check on Muggles and if they dared to enter the World. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his white polo shirt as he adjusted to the hot temperature night had brought. He looked at his ring finger and remembered the day he said his wedding vows to Pansy.

_To have and to hold, for richer and poorer…_ The whole bit.

The silver diamonds shone under the moonlight and the stars twinkled effervescently as he patrolled alone. He walked on the cobblestone path leading to the ordinary yet magical entrance/building of the Wizarding World and stopped when he saw a young lady ready to tap onto the bricks.

"Wow, she is really good-looking," he said as he innocently scanned her in entirety. "From the back." She had on a pale red mini dress and some two-inch shoes. Her dark brown curly hair shone under the pallid light and her toned arms were planted firmly on her hips. He side-peeked to take a better look and saw much more.

Her nose was sharp and slightly upturned, her eyes were in a pensive state and again, her dark brown curly hair shining…

Wait.

Dark brown curly hair? Toned arms? Sharp nose?

"Granger!" he whisper-exclaimed. He quietly sped towards her, grabbed her arm, and they both Disapparated before she could tap anything.


	9. Chapter 8: Grocery Shopping

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

"WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME DID YOU DO?" She screamed in Draco's ear. "WHY DID YOU KIDNAP ME?"

"Oh, stop being so feisty, Granger," he looked at her. Hermione realized she was staring into Draco's eyes and she found it hard to pull away all of a sudden. "You know you wanted me to kidnap you. I can see it in your eyes."

"How would you know such a feeling is true, _maestro_?" she said, finally turning away and walking in Shaw Street three steps ahead of her nemesis. "And why were you looking into my eyes anyway?"

Draco stopped walking and it made Hermione stop walking too. He walked over to her and stared deeply into her eyes and replied, "The question more important than yours, Granger, is 'why were you looking into mine?'"

Hermione felt a tinge of color darken her usually pink cheeks. "Out of respect, of course." She resumed walking until Draco stopped her in her tracks.

"Respect?" Draco smirked.

"Yes, respect, what else?" Hermione frowned.

"Honestly, Granger, I thought your retorts got smarter as you grew older," Draco shook his head and cocked it to the left, side-peeking at Hermione. "I was wrong."

Hermione blushed due to fury and embarrassment but said nothing. Draco smirked as he followed her to the grocery store. _Strike one, Granger_.

"Get your monkey paw out of my way, Malfoy," Hermione gritted her teeth as she slapped his hand away from her right. "I've got things to buy."

"Monkey paw?" Draco guffawed now. "Really?"

She stormed away from a laughing Draco and went over to the meat section to buy poultry and pork. She ordered a good twenty pounds and put them in the cart. She also bought some cake and more food as she watched Draco look at the entire store with disdain. _Of course he'd look at this place that way, he hated Muggles, _Hermione thought.

She quickly glanced at Draco and this action resulted in a horrifying thought. His hair was still platinum blonde like in their school life and he was taller now. His hair was not slicked like in second year, but had achieved a sort of sexier messy look. _Sexier, really?_ Hermione shuddered weakly. His eyes were still grey and tempestuous but sort of had a slight passion in them as she looked right into them minutes ago. He had on a loosened polo with a loosened tie hanging lazily on his toned body. His hands were not monkey paw-like at all but looked firm. As firm as the grip she felt when she fell on top of him due to his tripping charm. Two rings stood out from his fingers, one on each hand. His lips were a hue darker than before, probably due to his much calmer personality. _Believe you me, this Malfoy was not the same restless being that he was before._

Draco sauntered through the aisles lazily and loftily as he browsed through racks filled with food he couldn't (and wouldn't dare to) understand. He walked over to Hermione and saw that her cart was filled. He laughed sadistically as he saw her struggling to reach the packet of lemon drops on the highest shelf.

Hermione turned to look at him and said, "What is going on in that stupid rock you call a head, Malfoy? Laughing at your own stupidity?" she retorted. He stopped laughing and glared at her, "For your information, _you_ should be laughing at your _own_ stupidity. You could've asked for assistance from the Mudbloods here."

Out of fury, she drew her wand and threatened him with a Body Bind Hex. Although Draco was a bit scared at her serious and malicious tone, he replied, "Oh, go ahead, Granger. Look damn right silly in front of your people. Brandishing a _stick_ in front of your companion."

She growled, ignoring his taunt.

Draco's knees weakened as he held her hand for a while as he lowered her wand hand down. Her hand was soft unlike Pansy's hand which was rough to the touch. And the contact also sent shocks coursing through his body. Hermione blushed as well.

Silence filled the air for a brief yet uncomfortable five minutes.

"Well," Draco recovered as he coolly brushed his hand on his polo as if to remove any Muggle germs. "Aren't you going to pay for those?"

"Oh, no, Malfoy," she shook her head in a sarcastic manner. "I was just going to steal them like you always do." She saw Draco squirm due to embarrassment as shoppers looked at him. "She's off her rocker, folks. Nothing to worry about."

Hermione walked ahead of him and smiled victoriously as she paid for everything, with a sulking Malfoy behind her.

They both walked out, cart with them, and Hermione Disapparated with the groceries, leaving a piece of lemon drop in the empty cart. Looking around, he picked it up and unwrapped the sweet. He popped it into his mouth and had the strangest of sensations. It sent a sugary yet excitable surge through his body. And when he gazed at the empty spot beside him, he remembered so vividly the similar surges he felt with Hermione at the grocery earlier.

He realized he hadn't felt those surges in nine years and it got his breath catching.

_I did not just want to think that. Draco, for the love of Merlin, shut up._

As Hermione unpacked the groceries, she popped a lemon drop into her mouth and played some Celestina Warbeck. It was always a tradition to listen to it every summer night. It was a gift given by Harry during the Christmas break in their seventh year. _How was he?_ She thought.

She sat down on the couch and bit down on the sweet. She stared at her right hand. Moments ago, Draco's own was on it as he put her wand arm down. She blushed slightly at the feel of his soft hand on hers and it felt so familiar, strange as it seemed. _Harry's never felt like this_.

"Oh, Merlin," she slapped herself. "Not that I'm comparing! Hermione, what's wrong with you?"


	10. Chapter 9: Harry Potter

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)****  
**

Harry Potter was eating sausages in Austria. Secretly, of course. He wouldn't want to be spotted, even if the War was far beyond the sands of time. He took a dose of Polyjuice Potion and refill in hand, he transformed into one of the Vienna natives. He suddenly uttered German phrases to random strangers and it got his veins kicking. He hadn't seen the world in nine years. Why nine years? He was in hiding, of course!

"One _bratwurstl_, please," he asked the vendor in a heavily accented voice. The beefy salesman handed him the order with extra ketchup and Harry muttered, "_Danke_."

He walked over to a fountain and sat on the edge. He munched happily on the food and looked up at the sky. He sighed in happily. Birds were chirping, families were laughing…

Suddenly, a searing pain shot through his head. _Is that what I think… No, I don't think so. _Harry shook his head. He knew that The Dark Lord was still alive but he was disembodied. Harry destroyed his body after the sixth horcrux was destroyed. He was on his way to finding the seventh horcrux, but knowing that Hermione was somewhere on the other side of the world, he couldn't stomach the adventure anymore. It just sounded so _insane_ to him.

He continued eating his _bratwurstl_ and sipping his Polyjuice Potion by the side when he heard a voice that seemed to float beside him. "Classic Potter," the voice remarked snidely. "Muggling up? I'm not surprised."

He turned to see his nemesis (or cordial acquaintance due to the Voldemort hunt) staring down at the piece of sausage in his plastic wrapper. His hands were tucked into his leather trenchcoat and he had a package in his right hand, silver wedding band glinting under the faint ray of sunlight. It was the first few months of fall and the wind was getting nippy. The sun's light started decreasing due to the increasing volume of clouds that surrounded the Austrian afternoon. Draco's hair did not flinch though winds were gently blowing.

"Gelled up?" Harry shook his head. "Reliving our second year? Classic Malfoy."

Draco allowed himself a small smile.

"Oh shut up, Potter." He playfully socked him in the bicep.

"What's in the package? Poison?"

"On the contrary. I brought you a new trenchcoat from Madame Malkin's. Limited edition, this one."

Harry looked at Draco quizzically. "Am I going to die when I wear this trenchcoat?"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, Potter, get _over_ yourself. If I would kill you, I would. Two words, remember?"

He handed him the brown paper parcel and Harry motioned him to put the parcel down.

He muttered "_Aguamenti_." to wash his oily hands and "_Accio tissue_!" to wipe the water. He opened the parcel and in it was a black leather trenchcoat just like Malfoy's. He took his raggedy brown coat and muttered, "_Incendio!_"

His coat ignited and the fabric transfigured into wood and in front of the two men was an improvised fireplace (without the _place_).

"Potter! Are you mad? Why did you burn your—"

Harry looked at him questioningly. "Keep my rag? Really?"

"Oh, right."

Silence.

"So how's Pansy?"

"Oh, she's great," he replied, fiddling with his silver band. Suddenly, he forgot why he had one in the first place.

"Really? You don't sound very convincing."

Draco looked at him dirtily.

"Potter, you think that everything I say is unconvincing. We're not exactly _friends_, remember?"

"Of course. Right."

Silence.

"So, er," Draco coughed. "Have you fancied anyone lately?"

Harry laughed.

"What's so funny, Potter?"

"How could I be seeing anyone, you dolt?" he replied as if implying Draco was stupid. "I like Hermione, remember?"

Suddenly, Draco felt his fists clench. "Oh, right. I forgot." He shook his hands to relieve the tension. _Wait, what tension?_

"How is she by the way? Is she still all right?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"How does she look like right now?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

"Well, something that you _have_ to answer. It's been nine years, Malfoy. Not seeing her killed me in a way."

"What about Weasley? Don't you miss him too?"

"Of course, of course! But you get it, don't you? I mean it's different when it's a girl you miss. You always wonder how she's doing or what makes her happy. The whole sappy, cheesy sort of thing, yeah?"

"Wow, Potter," Draco shook his head mockingly. "And I thought that your scar was the only mark of some illness You Know Who gave you. I never knew it came with the side effect of _off-your-rocker-_itis."

"Laugh all you want," Harry gazed at the sky as some blue hues peeked from the grey dominatrices. "Don't you feel it too? With Pansy?"

"I love her but not in that way."

Draco felt strange as the word _love_ rolled off his tongue. It sounded so foreign, as if he hadn't meant what he said. He stared upwards too. _Stop thinking otherwise! You love her!_

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"You know damn well what _well_ meant."

"Oh, all right," Draco rolled his eyes. "If it gets your sappy, limpid mouth to shut up."

"So go ahead. Take as long as you want."

"What's to describe Granger? Except brown curly hair that falls mid-shoulder and that frizzes like a bad electric shock in the rain. Dull, brown eyes that emit some sort of light under the moon in the evening and when you hold your gaze so long enough, they're like magnets. They get you reeled in, it's crazy. And what's to say about her hands? So they're white. But they're like ivory, yeah. So soft and yet there's some sort of connection when you grasp it even for just a bit. And when you hear her laugh, it's so annoying. But it gets stuck in your brain like a broken record, it won't shut up. Her perfume, ugh it reeks! Reeks like fresh seawater at the break of day. And her smile, what's so extraordinary? Just some row of the most perfect teeth you've ever seen and her lips are always topped off with some sort of gloss whatever you call it. It's always in the perfect shade and when she does smile, the hues gleam like sunlight—"

"Wait a second."

"What now?"

"Did you know I was going to ask such a question?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Are you some kind of poet or something? Did my _Expelliarmus_ charm hit you hard on the head nine years ago?"

"I absolutely have _no _idea what you're talking about. I described her for you. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"It sounded like you noticed almost 98% of her. I wouldn't even go that far as alluding every part of her body to nature or some good thing. Bloody brilliant. I especially liked your allusion of her lip gloss shade to hues that gleam under the sunlight."

"Are you mad? I did _not _say that her lip gloss shade—"

Draco's heart leapt to his throat.

_Bloody. Hell._

He just described the way Hermione Granger in some extraordinarily beautiful way, it was unbelievable yet hauntingly hypnotizing. It was true what he said…

_Draco, shut it! _Draco muttered angrily in his mind.

"Have you ever described Pansy like that?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, Malfoy, you know bloody well what _that_ means."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Silence.

Harry looked around to averse the awkward air hanging over them.

He spotted a plastic wrapper sticking out of Draco's trenchcoat pocket.

"What's that?" he pointed to the protruding wrapper.

"What?"

Draco felt around his trenchcoat.

"Do I have a stain?"

"No. I mean…" he reached over and grabbed the protruding wrapper. "What is this doing in your pocket?"

He held up a wrapper that had the name _Aunt Nancy's Lemon Drop._

Draco's cheeks emitted a light shade of pink as he reddened.

"I meant to throw that."

"Right."

"What is this anyway?"

"It's called a lemon drop."

"Muggled up?"

Draco narrowed his eyebrows.

"Shut up."

Harry opened his palm upwards.

"Now what?"

"I want a lemon drop."

"I was saving them for later but all right."

He gave him two pieces of lemon drops and fished a third one for himself.

Draco watched as Harry opened the wrapper.

"This means so much to me, thanks—"

"I know."

"—because it's Hermione's—"

"—because it's Granger's—"

"—favorite candy."

Silence.


	11. Chapter 10: Pansy Goes Out of Town

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

"And that's the last one, darling?"

Three months into fall and Pansy had to go to Bulgaria for some work-related project.

"Will you miss me, baby?"

Pansy was hugging him and hanging on like a fly on food. Terrible metaphor, but very applicable.

"Give me a goodbye snog, will you?"

Draco did just because she was leaving and Pansy was closing her eyes the entire time. Draco's just stared up into the air, waiting for the right moment to let go of her lips.

"Goodbye, love."

Draco waved as Pansy blew him an air kiss.

She got into the car and Draco shut the door for her. Pansy looked absolutely giddy at the sight of his gesture. "My gentleman! I will miss you!" she smiled widely.

She burst into tears.

"Now what, darling? Why are you weeping?"

"Be-be-because…" Pansy blubbered. "I will miss you so terribly!"

"Oh, Merlin," Draco slapped his forehead. "Pansy, you're going to be away for a week."

"Seven days without—"

"Yes, but if you leave _sooner_, the faster the week goes by." Draco spoke like an elementary teacher.

Pansy's red face lit up.

"Oh, darling, you always know the right thing to say."

And the car sped off.

"Damn right you are, Pansy."

Draco entered the Manor and ran up the stairs in a fit of involuntary joy. He was free! No more clingy wife, even just for a while. He then opened his room. No, not his and Pansy's, but _his_ room. His childhood room.

He hadn't opened it in years.

Green and silver banners hung on the walls of his master-size chamber. His Nimbus 2001 from his second year framed on the right side of the room midway on top of the desk. His four-poster bed displayed exquisite quilts and blankets made from the finest Wizard silk along with pillows so comfortable; it feels like one was sleeping on a cloud. _Pansy never liked this room, _he thought.

He was wrong.

He never wanted to show this room to Pansy and for nine years he had lied to his wife about his room being one of those "storage areas" and being the elitist that she was, refused to open such a place.

"_Scourgify!"_ Draco chanted (and coughed due to the excessive dust fluttering around his room) and the room was suddenly rid of dust, pests, webs, and other dirt. His windows glinted faintly under the weak light of day and the window curtains exposed green and white hues. He entered the room and walked over to his mahogany bookcase. With his index finger, he scanned the spines of _A History of Magic _to _Muggles and Where to Hunt For Them…_ He had such a book?

He removed it from his shelf and threw himself on the bed. He magically changed into his pajamas and coursed through the pages. Of course he had to have such a book, he hated Muggles. He loathed their impurity and their interference in the purifying of the Wizards that existed. He remembered yet again his anger for Hermione Granger and how he had endlessly tortured her… that scheming vixen.

But remembering how she had lost Potter or the fact that she was talking to the man who had almost murdered her, he felt his heart wrench. And suddenly, he wanted to kiss her again. He wanted her to know that he was sorry for everything that she had gone through and to apologize for his selfish prerogatives…

"Wait, I do _not_ want to kiss that Mudblood!" Draco exclaimed in horror as he fought to catch up with his speeding train of thought. Again, his persistent mouth and _right sense of mind_ was successful in pushing away thoughts of Hermione Granger and changing into a loose polo and slacks, he went out of his room and descended down the stairs for dinnertime alone.

She dropped her wine glass on the floor and stared at the red fluid coursing through her newly furbished carpet. "Oh, Merlin! How maladroit of me!" she exclaimed. "_Scourgify!_"

The red fluid dissipated before her eyes and she picked the glass off the floor with a _"Levicorpus!_" What has gotten into her lately?

She knew that she'd been returning back to the grocery store that she and that prat Malfoy went to. _Malfoy_.

_That sadistic, stupid arse._ She thought as she _fondly_ remembered their encounter in the lemon drops aisle where he laughed as she was reaching helplessly for her favorite treat. She narrowed her eyebrows, trying to focus. But his laugh caught her off guard.

The way his voice deepened as each _ha-ha_ escaped from his nicely red-hued lips. It sounded so sadistic yet so appealing. She wouldn't be surprised if she just jumped on him and kissed him there and then.

And that was the first reason why she dropped her wine glass, the second reason being that the wine was the same shade as his lips.


	12. Chapter 11: The Rise

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

_ "Yes."_

_ The rat-faced man stirred some more into the cauldron as the voice suddenly attached itself to the mouth of the being._

_ "Peter," the voice called softly. "Come hither."_

_ Peter walked nimbly like that of a mouse and twitched his imaginary whiskers. The voice was now coming from a mouth and the legs were forming. The servant was staring in awe and admiration._

_ "You have come back."_

_ The being did not display any emotion because what body parts did he have to show? _

_ "Yes, I have."_

_ "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" _

_ Harry's scar shot searing pain through his veins, shooting imaginary daggers in his temple like soldiers fighting inside his mind. It was as if a knife pierced his scalp. He rose from his bed. Three in the morning was not really a great time to wake up as everything around was sound asleep, oblivious to what he had felt that night._

_ All was calm._

_ Harry, tired, staggered back into bed and shut his eyes before the truth had finally shown itself._

_ "My Lord, you look better than ever." Peter nodded and stuttered. He twitched for a second time that night._

_ "Now is not the time for compliments, Peter Pettigrew!" Voldemort snapped as his body was taking complete form. His absent nostrils were intact, his piercing eyes were back, and his white, pale body frame was formed. He stepped out of the cauldron and Peter, shutting his eyes out of pure modesty and respect, handed him a robe he had conjured while Voldemort was still in progress._

_ "I-I-I'm s-s-sorry, my Lord," the Scabbers fraud replied shakily. "I-I-I'm just so overwhelmed with joy…"_

_ "What have you heard?"_

_ Harry's eyes scrunched themselves shut as lines of frustration and pain began to etch themselves on his forehead. His scar was piercing him slowly…_

_ "Heard?  
Voldemort shot sparks out of his wand due to Peter's lack of comprehension._

_ "Peter, don't be stupid!" he snapped angrily. "What news have you heard after my, er…"_

_ "Disembod-d-iment, my Lord?"_

_ "Must you make me remember such a failure?" Voldemort replied coldly._

_ "I'm s-s-sorry…"_

_ "News. Now."_

_ Harry's fists balled up as he tried to withhold the pain._

_ "The mudblood Granger is dead."_

_ Voldemort grinned evilly. "Go on."_

_ "The blood traitor Weasley is still alive but his whereabouts were unknown."_

_ Harry struggled to breathe as visions of Voldemort speaking to Peter Pettigrew flashed before his eyes. He still had that connection with Voldemort…_

_ "Is he still alive?"_

_ "Who, my Lord?"_

_ "You know who I am referring to."_

_ Harry's breath shortened as he was hyperventilating, the pain progressively more excruciating as each second passed._

_ "Yes."_

_ Voldemort clenched his wand tightly._

_ "Is such a thing true?"_

_ Harry screamed._

_ "Yes, my Lord. Harry Potter is still alive."_

_ Voldemort pointed his wand to the sky and shot angry bolts out of his wand. Harry felt torn apart and the vision ended. With a sweaty body but not minding it the least bit, he fell into a dreamless slumber._

_ But one thing still was embedded in his mind:_

_ Voldemort was still alive and he was thirsty._

_ Thirsty for Harry Potter._

**A/N: one of the shortest chapters I have posted. :-( sorry. HEY WHERE ARE MY REVIEWS, FRIENDS?**_  
_


	13. Chapter 12: Hermione's Locket

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

Nightfall had taken over daylight in minutes as fall ushered in windy flavors. It was half past nine and Draco was unusually feeling _obsessive-compulsive_. He had spent the past hour Scourgifying every nit and grit in his room because the general one he cast a while ago left some debris in the right side of his closet.

"Bloody hell, _Scourgify_!" he chanted as the grime disappeared off the railing of his cupboard. He was beat, but the look of his room was worth it. He then opened some drawers and was searching for Neville's remembrall. He found the glass object that he had nicked from him and laughed as he remembered _ickle Neville_ poorly trying to chase after him but Potter attempted too. He almost got to him but never tried.

As he shut his drawer and thought ever so fondly about his sadistic yet nostalgic experiences in school, something dropped on the floor behind him. He turned and saw a gold necklace with a heart-shaped pendant dangling on the center.

Draco knelt down and picked the piece of jewelry up and held it in the palm of his hand. _It was a locket_, he thought. _Pansy never entered this room let alone have this necklace._

He brought it over to his bed and as he threw himself onto the covers, he opened the pendant. He had caught a whiff of the sweetest perfume as a light breeze blew through his curtains. And when he saw the photo that filled the pendant, he gasped.

_Granger?_

"Why on earth would I have the mudblood's locket?" Draco let go of the locket and flopped into the bed, his body ultimately switching to his pajamas. The moon shone brightly as Dtaco's platinum blonde hair fell gently on his eyes as he tried to fall into slumber. His eyes were scrunched like trying not to remember the upcoming thought, but it was to no avail. His thoughts were dominating again.

_"Must I die alone?" her voice cracked as she fought to hold back tears._

_ Draco looked at her._

_ "I don't know."_

_ She grasped her locket tightly._

_ "What is that?"_

_ "What?"_

_ "The one you're holding."_

_ Hermione let out a tranquil laugh, despite the fact that she knew she was going to pass in a few minutes._

_ "Oh this? This is a locket."_

_ "From whom?"_

_ "My parents." Her voice cracked and Draco's heart twisted._

_ His chest tightened as her breathing got less stable. She was crying silently now._

_ "You're going to be okay."_

_ "Really?" she asked bitterly. "How would you know?"_

_ "I just—"_

_ "How would you know that I'm ever going to see my parents? How would you know if I live to see my friends get married? How—"_

_ "Hermione—"_

_ This pseudo-Potter voice was starting to irk him. And the fact that the mudblood was always interrupting._

_ "—would you know that you're going to ever finally kill the Dark Lord? Please, Harry, don't give me empty promises!"_

_ Her bitterness rang through his ears and he once again attempted to get her to listen._

_ "Listen first—"_

_ "No, I won't listen! This is the final end of my chapter. The final days of Hermione Granger—"_

_ "Wait—"_

_ "—the final days of the once brightest witch of her age—"_

_ "Granger—" he was starting to get mad._

_ "—the final days of the mudblood."_

_ And Hermione gave the final word._

_ Nothing was mentioned nor said for the past two minutes because Draco's lips had landed on Hermione's as he enveloped her into one of the most passionate kisses he swore he will remember all the days of his life._

_ Hermione fell helpless as her salty tears mixed in with unhinged passion as she felt the softness of his lips collide with her own. She surrended to the ever firm grip of Draco Malfoy as she fell gently into his arms. He then proceeded to kiss her gently on both eyes as his hands gently wiped away the tears that fell down like water droplets. _

_ "Am I getting seven minutes in heaven?" she finally breathed as they both pulled away from passion's hold._

_ Draco laughed softly._

_ "Can I take off my blindfold right now?"_

_ "No!" he exclaimed._

_ "Must you get so huffy?"_

_ She reached behind her neck and unhooked her locket._

_ "What are you doing?"_

_ "Well, you just attempted to kiss me on the eyes and it was kind of silly since there's a piece of cloth barricading my vision. Here's my locket."_

_ "I want you to do me a favor."_

_ "What now?"_

_ "Kiss me again."_

_ He did so as he gave soft kisses on her tinged pink cheeks and with a finality, he gently fingered her lips with his thumb and landed straight on hers yet again. Time was running out but there was no way he could ever let her go._

_ "Harry—"_

_ Draco raised his eyebrows questioningly but remembered his disguise._

_ "Yes?"_

_ "Have it." She murmured gently as her mouth was still locked on Draco's._

_ "Have what?"_

_ He could feel her lips tightening and he shushed her, his quiet command stilling her quivering lips._

_ "My locket."_

_ "What, why?"_

_ "Because you have to give it to them."_

_ "Them? Who? Your parents?"_

_ And he saw Hermione shaking with fear and caught up with the heat, he held her hand and squeezed it. "You won't die."_

_ And this time she cracked a small smile._

_ "Promise?"_

_ Draco inhaled heavily, knowing the weighty punishment if ever he was to be found out. "Promise."_

_ "Harry, I—"_

_ But he cast a sleeping spell on her before she finished her utterances. He heard footsteps. It was time._

_ Crack._

Draco's grey eyes opened as he remembered the short yet passionate affair they had in the Room of Requirement. And it was true. The kiss he shared with Hermione was something he will remember for the rest of his life.

And just this once, he let his thoughts slide.


	14. Chapter 13: 3AM

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

Hermione woke with a start as she looked beside her side of the bed. No one was there. Strange as it was, she had never wondered about her loneliness for nine years now. So why was tonight (or today rather) so different?

Her alarm clock beeped three. Hermione rose and slipped on her silk nightrobe. She descended down the stairs and brewed a mug of coffee. She sat on the dining chair and gazed at the black, empty sky. The moon had waned in light and was awaiting the sun for its morning glory. Although she couldn't make the shapes out, she could see the silhouettes of falling leaves. She placed her mug down and walked over to her sink countertop, placing her hands on the handles of her windows. She opened the windows slightly, to welcome the breeze of fall into her home. The sea was supposed to be thrashing at this time of hour, but she looked to see and it was calm. She cursed silently, leaving her nothing else to blame for lack of sleep.

Draco Malfoy had not come back to visit her.

Not that it mattered, right? She didn't like the fact that she had a mudblood murderer in her house or let alone visiting her area. She just hated him there. She hated his messy blonde hair that she just wanted to run her fingers in, his eyes that she wanted to lose herself in forever, his lips that she badly wanted to kiss…

Her mind's racing again.

_Stop it, Hermione,_ she thought. _You're better than this._

Her thoughts were off-clock again, she concluded. An hour had passed and the sun was beginning to show itself. And she found herself surrendering to the call of sleep as she lay her head on her table.

"One more bottle of firewhiskey, please." Harry Potter (or rather _Barnabus Beezley_) ordered. The barman at The Londoner handed him an ice-cold bottle and uncorked it for his customer.

Harry watched the lively crowd laugh and drink the night away. He checked his watch and it read TWO AM. Hermione was asleep. How he had missed her so.

He knew he hadn't spent time with her much ever since he felt differently about her and he wished he were given the luxury. But he knew Voldemort was at hand and he knew that his ally Draco Malfoy knew too.

_"Hermione, can you come into the common room for a while?" Harry called from the fireplace area. _

_ Hermione, clad in a nightgown, descended from her quarters._

_ "What is it?"_

_ Harry breathed heavily._

_ "I have to go."_

_ Hermione eyed him suspisciously._

_ "Harry, it's half past eleven. Professor McGonagall's going to wring you by the arse—"_

_ Harry stood up from his chair and walked over to her._

_ "You don't understand."_

_ "Understand? Oh I do understand completely. Must I refresh your memory to the time in our first year when we were sneaking around the out-of-bounds area…"_

_ Harry slapped his face in frustration.  
"It's not like that!"_

_ "Then what is 'like that'?"_

_ Hermione raised her eyebrows and her eyes started to tear up as Harry explained himself._

_ "He's back, isn't he?"_

_ Harry nodded solemnly._

_ "Yes."_

_ Hermione leapt into his arms._

_ "I hope you don't get killed off…"_

_ Harry shook his head no._

_ "I won't die, I promise."_

_ Hermione kissed him lightly and Harry's heart fluttered._

_ She did love him._

_ "Do you love me?"_

_ She nodded._

_ "Now you're making it so hard for me to leave."_

_ Hermione smiled._

_ "Well, thinking of me will most probably heal your wounds more quickly."_

_ She ran her fingers through his jet-black hair and his emerald eyes shone. They kissed again and the fire flickered noiselessly. Harry knew he couldn't let go but he knew he had to. There was no time._

_ He quickly let go and Hermione hugged him one last time._

_ "Be safe."_

_ "Goodbye. See you when the war ends."_

_ Hermione wiped tears away. _

_ "Harry, wait! Harry!"_

"Harry?"

Harry Potter gasped and cleared his throat.

"Isn't Harry Potter dead?"

"No, he isn't. He's my best friend and he wrote to me."

Harry's chest inflated.

"Ron?"

The red-headed stranger popped out.

"Harry?" he whispered excitedly so as not to cause a commotion.

"Ron?"

"Harry?"

They couldn't believe it.

Harry hugged his best friend so tight, Ron had to wiggle out of his grip.

"Blimey, mate, and to think You-Know-Who weakened you…"

Harry glared at him, not wanting to remember his defeat against the Dark Lord.

"Oh, right, sorry."

Ron walked over to the bar and bought two new bottles to celebrate their reunion.

"Mind if I join you?"

Harry turned to nod but his eyes and jaw dropped in surprise.

A red-headed woman walked over and boy, was Harry caught off guard. She resembled Ron a bit actually but she was pretty (no offense, Ron). Her eyes were the most beautiful shade of brown, her hair was flaming red, and she was quite fit.

"S-s-sure."

Ron nudged him in the rib.

"You remember Ginny, right?"

Ginny waved hello.

Harry dropped his glass.

"Ginny?"

"I believe Ron had already mentioned my name. How are you, Harry?"

She hugged him and Harry hugged back.

"Oy! You're going ter pay fer that mass, ya hear, Beezly?"

"Beezly?" The Weasley siblings turned to Harry.

He laughed for the second time in nine years.

"Long story."

Ginny leaned over to the bar as the three of them were sitting on stools, drinking firewhiskey and Harry caught a whiff of her perfume.

Somehow, that hole in his heart that Hermione had once filled, was slowly dissipating. He smiled at Ginny and she smiled back. _It was a good hour_.


	15. Chapter 14: The Visit

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

Again, Hermione couldn't sleep.

_Bloody hell, woman, _she cursed. _It's been two straight days._

As she rubbed her eyes open, she saw a silhouette.

Hermione, clothed in a short nightgown, opened her eyes and rubbed them, exhaustion taking over.

She ignored the call of her bed and stood up, wand in hand.

"Must you be so feisty in the wee hours of the morning, Granger?"

Hermione gasped as she dropped her wand.

Showing himself under the moonlight, Draco Malfoy smirked. He was fully clothed (that nutter) in a loose white polo with his sleeves folded up midway to show his toned forearms and he put on a pair of cashmere sweats. A peculiar pairing, but sexy nonetheless, she nodded approvingly.

_Sexy?_

"Gaze all you want, Granger," his eyes ran up and down her body as he checked her out. "But you can't have any of _this_."

"I would rather hang myself, Malfoy." She retorted, a blush creeping up.

"What are you wearing now? Nothing?" he smirked naughtily. "Were you expecting me?"

"HOW DARE YOU? I'M NOT YOUR HUSSY!"

Hermione stomped over to him and was about to slap him when Draco caught hold of her hand and they stayed in that position for two minutes. Hermione found it hard to tear away from his stronghold gaze and Dtaco felt likewise. There was some sort of locked passion that the two did not know about but knew existed.

"Surrendering to me, Granger?" he neared her face. She was shaking as she inhaled his spicy aftershave. She weakened.

"No." She replied shakily, hoping her voice won't give her weakening away.

He neared and neared her until she could almost feel his lips touching hers. "What are you pulling, Malfoy?"

Draco suddenly had the urge to pull her by the waist and kiss her hard. But he pulled away from her just in time. She smelled so sweet and it was driving him crazy.

Hermione descended down the stairs in utter confusion.

"Where are you going?"

"Getting a mug of coffee."

"I want a drink too."

Draco followed her down.

It was five in the morning already and he realized he hadn't slept since one. He sat down on the quaint dining table and waited patiently as Hermione started the coffeemaker. She reached out for two mugs and Draco laughed softly as he remembered their grocery encounter and he stopped to look at Hermione Granger's body.

He already noticed everything about her top but her bottom was something else. Her legs were shapely as they moved around the room, helping Hermione move to and fro with the sugar and the mixing. Her arse was quite fine too for a mudblood and damn it, all in all she was downright sexy.

_You're married, Draco,_ his conscience (he had one?) warned.

_So? Can't a married man check out a woman?_ He replied.

"Can I ask you something?"

Hermione muttered yes.

"I'm having sleeping problems."

"So?"

"And you have sleeping problems too, right?"

"What makes you think I have sleeping problems?"

"The coffee. Honestly, Granger, is your unintelligent character finally starting to show?"

Hermione clenched the mug handle tightly.

"If you're here to mess around with me…"

"Was that a pick-up line?"

Hermione turned to face him and there was a naughty smirk pasted on his handsome mug.

"You know, Granger," he winked suggestively. "You could have asked me directly if you wanted me to stay…"

"That wasn't what I was implying."

_Oh, just take your damn polo off already!_ She thought spontaneously.

_HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER!_ She thought-chided.

"Then why are you staring at my buttons?" he replied huskily as he stood up and approached her.

Hermione choked as his voice descended an octave lower. She was starting to sweat.

Draco was about to teasingly touch her leg when he felt a hot splash of coffee burn his face.

"WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME WAS THAT?"

Hermione smirked.

"You wanted things hot, right?"

She winked naughtily yet evilly as her nemesis struggled to wipe the mess off his face and clothes.

"Clean up after your own dirt, Malfoy." She said with a flourish.

And as Draco unbuttoned his shirt to _scourgify_ it, he realized she was right. She did make things hot for him and he couldn't blame the coffee this time.

Hermione dropped her confident pose as she hid in the bathroom near the bookshelf. _Why had she winked? Why had she stared at his buttons? Why had she wanted his polo off? Why had she?_ She calmed her beating heart as she remembered the way Draco's voice sounded. It was so tempting…

"Hermione, get a grip," She slapped herself and washed her face repeatedly. "Forgive yourself. It's six in the morning and you haven't had a wink of sleep…"

_Crash!_

"What on earth—"

She bolted out of the powder room and found a shirtless Malfoy trying to run a dishwasher. _Well, I know another dish that needs cleaning. DAMN IT, HERMIONE!_

"Granger," he crossed his built biceps over his chest. "You are the muggle queen here, teach me how to run this thing."

"Are you really interested in learning Muggle things?"

"Yes."

Hermione looked at him questioningly.

"Oh, all right," he surrendered. "I was just curious."

Hermione nodded and blushed guiltily as she tried not to stare at shirtless Draco.

"Tempting, aren't I?" he smirked.

"Not even the slightest." Her voice cracked.

"Too bad."

"Why too bad?" she asked innocently.

"I'm married."

Hermione nodded understandingly yet disbelievingly at the same time.

"What's so unbelievable about my getting married?"

"Who's the lucky girl?"

"Pansy Parkinson."

She burst out laughing.

Draco's jaw dropped.

"What's so funny, Granger?"

"I—just can't—believe…" she choked in between words.

"What?"

"I mean, Pug-Face Parkinson!"

Draco narrowed his eyes.

"And so?"

Hermione stopped laughing but was still shaking uncontrollably.

"Fine, go ahead and finish your mockery."

But as much as Draco was frustrated at Hermione picking on his choice wife, he couldn't help but notice her features as the sun shone in. It was seven AM and Draco's eyes were heavy but he knew he wasn't blind. Her eyes crinkled adorably as she inhales the air after a laugh, her nose scrunches up like so, and her laugh emitted the most peaceful of noises, as ironic as that may have sounded.

She yawned.

"Oh, tired from all the laughing, aren't we?"

He frowned as he walked away from the scene and Hermione called after him.

"Malfoy!" she exclaimed.

"What now, Granger?"

"You can stay."

Draco's eyebrows shot up.

"Excuse me?"

"I knew you were to ask me that question two hours ago, and I realized I haven't laughed like this in a long time."

"So you want me to stay so that you can jeer on me?"

"Pretty much so."

Draco smiled.

"Deal."

Hermione smiled weakly as sleep threatened to take over.

"Well, I will be heading now…"

She walked but dropped on the floor due to dire exhaustion.

"Granger!"

"I can make…"

And no words emitted from her lips.

Draco was tired too.

But he couldn't leave her lying like that.

So he carried her in his arms and brought her up the stairs.

The feel of her legs were soft against his forearms and her slow and gentle breathing let loose a tranquil feeling in Draco as he arrived in her bedroom.

She lay her down gently and moved all of the curls to one side as he pulled the blanket over her body. He turned to walk out of the doorway when he stopped to look at her. He leaned against the doorframe as he saw how the sunlight highlighted her face but was not too glaring as to wake her up. Her white skin shone and her eyelashes stirred occasionally. For the first time in his life, he admitted to himself that she looked so beautiful just lying there. But not in a mushy sort of way! That was so unlike him. He walked down the stairs and fell onto the couch, exhausted and smiled inwardly.


	16. Chapter 15: The Return

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

**A/N: Just to give you guys a heads up, this is one of my favorite chapters in the story. :-) why? read on and find out. x  
**

"Hello, honey, how was your day?" Narcissa asked as her son was packing his clothes.

"Great, Mother," he cringed a bit. "Honey?"

Narcissa laughed softly.

"Well, I want to try that whole motherly bit. Does honey sound okay?"

"Mother, Draco's fine."

She laughed.

He was excited to note that he will be staying with Hermione _just because he needed to be with someone. _TO KEEP COMPANY OF COURSE! NOTHING ELSE. He was married for Merlin's sake!

"Do you have a business trip?"

"Yes, Mother. It will take me about… two weeks actually."

"When is Pansy coming back?"

Draco's wedding ring suddenly felt tight around his finger.

But he sighed in relief when he remembered the arrival of Pansy's letter. She had extended her stay in Berlin.

"She'll be back two weeks from now too."

"Oh, all right."

Narcissa kissed her son lightly on the forehead and she ducked out of his room.

It was six o' clock in the evening and the sun was already gone. Draco knew he had to get back to Hermione's cottage because she would rise in an hour.

He checked around and with the remembrall in hand, he Disapparated back to Shell Cottage.

Narcissa descended down the marble stairs and arrived at Lucius' room.

"Lucius?"

Narcissa opened the door and found no one.

She didn't really favor the idea of coming into his quarters. It was just so… _dark_.

The Death Eater hood, the books on the Dark Arts… why couldn't he just dispose of them and be done with?

Thank Merlin they sleep in her room.

She settled on her husband's cold chair and contemplated the days when she met him.

It was Hogwarts 1972 and Lucius was still a prefect. Shy Narcissa would smile and run away whenever Lucius were around in her boundaries. She also remembered the night at the Yule Ball when they left their dates behind to go outside and look at the stars.

_"And what's that one?"_

_ "That is Orion's belt."_

_ Narcissa shyly hooked a stray piece of hair behind her ear._

_ "And that one?"_

_ "Oh, that one's Andromeda."_

_ Narcissa inhaled sharply._

_ Lucius turned to face her._

_ "What's wrong?"_

_ Narcissa shook her head as if not wanting to share anything. _

_ "It's not really important."_

_ "I want to hear every word."_

_ Narcissa was so surprised at Lucius' tone. The command was in the statement but his tone told otherwise. It was as if he was actually interested. _

_ "Oh, all right."_

_ "Don't leave a single word out."_

_ And for the next thirty minutes, Narcissa talked about how her sister Andromeda and she had a falling out recently._

_ "What's wrong with Andromeda Black?"_

_ "You mean Andromeda Tonks." She sniffed disdainfully._

_ "Oh." Lucius frowned just as disdainfully._

_ Narcissa smiled shyly._

_ "You hate mudbloods too?"_

_ "Oh, of course I do!" he narrowed his eyebrows._

_ "I mean, why can't we just live purely? No muggle interruptions. Those scum."_

_ Lucius breathed in cold air as he looked at Narcissa._

_ "What?"_

_ He smiled._

_ "Nothing."_

_ Narcissa's cheeks turned red and she refocused on the glittering spatter of stars in the sky._

_ Lucius gazed at her for a while and recovered as well. He tapped her shoulder lightly._

_ "Look at that one."_

_ Narcissa stared up and followed the direction of his finger._

_ "What?"_

_ Lucius pointed at the star to the right. "It's my favorite one."_

_ "The Draco?"_

_ Lucius nodded excitedly._

_ "How do you know?"_

_ Narcissa smiled inwardly._

_ "My father Cygnus used to show me the stars through his telescope. We would be floating in the air on his broomstick and we would watch the constellation quite near actually. It's best seen in…"_

_ "July!" they said simultaneously._

_ They both looked at each other._

_ "Wow, we have something in common."_

_ "But how come we can see it now?" Narcissa asked._

_ "I just chanted 'Accio Draco!' and it came out!"_

_ Narcissa laughed softly._

_ "I'll accept that explanation."_

_ "Come, let's have a walk."_

_ Lucius stood up and Narcissa stood up as well._

_ "I don't think Lucinda and Barry would mind, respectively."_

_ They departed from the snow-covered grass and Narcissa was shivering as the wind suddenly grew colder._

_ She then felt a piece of clothing descend upon her shoulder._

_ "What's this?"_

_ Lucius smiled shyly._

_ "It's my coat, of course. I saw you shivering."_

_ "Thank you." She whispered gratefully._

_ They both walked over to a snow-covered patch behind some pine trees and Narcissa was puzzled._

_ "What are we doing here, Lucius?"_

_ "Well, I come here every night to watch The Draco come out in its full glory. And I wanted you to come and see it too."_

_ "Really?" _

_ Lucius nodded sincerely._

_ "It's beautiful."_

_ Malfoy turned to her._

_ "If you must know, sometimes, I wish I had a son named Draco."_

_ Narcissa gasped._

_ "What's wrong?" he asked, concerned._

_ "I do too."_

_ Lucius sighed in relief._

_ He had brought the right girl._

_ As The Draco shone in its glorifying light, Narcissa felt a hand on hers._

_ She turned to see Lucius smiling while focused on The Draco and Narcissa focused too and smiling, she interlaced her fingers with his as they watched intently._

Narcissa's eyes were wet as she remembered the most wonderful of memories she had had in her lifetime. She picked up the frame that Lucius had on his desk and gazed lovingly at her husband and then her son. She realized she was so lucky to have a spouse like Lucius who had since been there for her and to have Draco, their star son. She swore to herself that even in times of adversary, _she_ would be there to help them out.

"Narcissa?"

Narcissa turned to see her husband.

"Lucius? What's wrong?"

Lucius' face was paler than usual and his lips were dry with fright.

"He's back."

"Draco?" she asked, puzzled. "He's off on some business trip. Did he not mention that?"

Lucius nodded slowly.

"What's wrong then?"

"Narcissa," he whispered dangerously. "Come take a look."

She quickly but cautiously walked to Lucius' bathroom and after she sighted the cause of Lucius' fright, she too paled.

The Dark Mark was branded on the shower wall and Narcissa realized she had to walk what she had promised. She gripped her husband's hand and he in turn did too.

**A/N: I'll update sooner than soon, friends. :-) I NEED REVIEWS**


	17. Chapter 16: At Madam Rosmerta's

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

**A/N: Thank you ishipdramoine for the reviews! x and you are the sweetest for making an account just so you can review. please please promote me. :-)  
**

"What are we doing at Madam Rosmerta's?"

Ron was glancing at the faded photographs of the Hogsmeade restaurant. He smiled at the photographs that mobilized in front of him. Those were pictures of the good days when they were still students at Hogwarts. Inside the sepia memories, he found the smiling faces of him and his friends and secretly wished that they could go back to their student selves. Oh, how innocent life was for them back then.

"Hey, Harry."

"Who's Harry, Ron?" Harry said through gritted teeth. "I'm Barnabus Beezly, remember?"

"Oh, right," Ron covered up quickly. "Sorry, I must have confused him with Harry, my potter."

Harry slapped his forehead.

"Oh, Merlin."

"Oh, honestly, Ronald," Ginny clucked her tongue impatiently.  
"Could you be any more stupid?"

Ron made a face at his sister.

The three of them walked to the end of the bar and sat. Ron was gaggling at the relics of his favorite Quidditch team, "The Chudley Cannons" and Harry was drinking his butterbeer.

"Harry?"

Ginny was waving her hand in front of his eyes.

"Why are you staring at me?"

Oh, Harry was drinking his butterbeer _while staring at Ginny_.

"Was I?" Harry reddened.

"Do I have something on my face?"

Harry shook his head, embarrassed.

"Oh, all right, then."

Ginny was looking around and Harry tried not to look at her but he was doing it again.

"You're doing it again!" Ginny pointed.

Nice mention, Ginny.

"What?" Harry looked away.

"You're staring at me."

This time, Ginny's face reddened a bit.

"Oh, piss off, Ginny, you've been staring at Harry the first time we bumped into him at that Scottish bar."

Ginny gasped and Harry smiled inwardly.

_Did he have a crush on Ginny Weasley?_

"_You _piss off, Ronald," she pouted and turned to face forward.

After a while, Harry was finishing the rest of his butterbeer when this time he caught Ginny looking at him. He then locked eyes with her and although Ginny reddened even more, neither one turned to look away.

She smiled and he smiled too.

_Yes, I do have a crush on Ginny Weasley._

"YOU GROSS ME OUT, THE BOTH OF YOU!"

Ron who was looking at them with a disgusted look on his face broke off their star-crossed stares.

"Oh shut up, Ron, just because you're single, and we're not doing anything!"

"Oh really, Ginny? You would love to snog—"

BOOM.

A resounding explosion came from the middle of the bar as resounding screams exploded from every side of the area.

"He's here, he's here!"

The once organized bar messed itself up entirely as photos were thrashed on the floor and glasses were knocked on the ground by guests due to fright.

Harry's scar began to sting, making him lose his balance. Ginny and Ron helped him up while Harry was clutching his forehead in pain. He staggered yet again as his forehead sensed the presence he had been avoiding for nine years.

"He's back." Harry croaked weakly.

Ginny and Ron looked at one another in puzzlement.

"Who, Harry?"

Harry looked at them.

"V—"

"Harry Potter," a voice whispered hauntingly into the air.

Harry screamed in pain.

Ginny and Ron dropped a writhing Harry while they drew their wands out.

"Harry Potter," the voice repeated again, this time a bit more chilling to the ear.

"Wh-who's there?" Ginny replied, trying to put up a brave front.

"Ah, I see the redhead blood traitors are here."

The three could sense the voice floating around the walls, its echoes reverberating across the room.

Ginny held her breath while Ron clutched his sister by the shoulder.

_Tap, tap._

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Harry was sweating profusely and writhing like that in a seizure.

"Harry!"

Ginny exclaimed as she tried to calm a disturbed Harry.

Harry accidentally slapped her face.

"Bloody hell!"

She rubbed her face and kicked Harry lightly.

"What is the matter with you?"

"Ginny Weasley." The voice now called out to her.

"What do you want from me, you old git?"

The voice laughed emptily.

"Old git?" the voice replied coldly. "I assumed your family was raised on proper value and moral. I guess blood traitors really do not have that good an education."

"Speak for yourself, Voldemort!" Ron snapped angrily, surprising even himself with his change in behavior. "Look who's talking!"

Harry was busy writhing continuously and Ginny, conjuring up a glass of water, threw the entire liquid at his face.

"Where are you, Voldemort?" Ron quivered slightly due to fear. "Show yourself, come on now!"

There was no response.

"Are you even in humanized form?"

"Ron! I think you should stop."

But Ron didn't heed to Ginny's warning.

"Scared you can't even show yourself?"

"RON! Stop it!"

BOOM.

And indeed, Ron was wrong.

Voldemort stood in front of them, clad in his signature blue tunic and in his pale body structure, and smiling evilly.

"Missed me?"

BOOM.

**ishipdramoine: no, Ron does not get together with anyone. ;-) he's cuter when he's single, imo. :-) hihi**


	18. Chapter 17: A Rare Kind of Peace

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

**A/N: A fluff chapter for you all. And I think that a specs-wearing Draco looks really adorable. x  
**

"Stop!"

Hermione rose from her bed and widened her eyes at her surroundings.

Gone was the evil dream she had of Ron, Harry, and Ginny at Madam Rosmerta's and she was back in her own room.

_It was just a dream, right?_ She thought as she rubbed her eyes.

She checked her clock and as if on cue, it beeped 2AM.

She sighed and was about to fall again when she gasped in surprise.

"Granger?"

Draco was clad in a body-hugging grey sweater with a green turtleneck and comfortable yet stylish sweats and he was barefoot. He glanced at her with concerned eyes. Well, at least that was what she saw through his silver frames.

"Malfoy?"

She immediately fixed her hair as Draco turned away to look at her room.

"What happened?"

Her cheeks flamed red as he cocked his head to the right. This was embarrassing.

"What are you talking about?"

Draco sighed in exasperation.

"Oh, Granger, don't talk stupid," Draco shook his head. "You screamed 'Stop!' and I wondered what the hell it was."

"I did?" she asked innocently.

Draco smirked as he turned sideways and then closed his eyes and smiled.

"Cute, Granger," he replied at her feigned innocence. "But not quite enough to tempt me."

He flashed her his ring.

"I wasn't even attempting…"

Draco held his hand up to silence her.

"No explanations needed," he replied as he tossed her his cashmere sweater. "I think it's freezing up here and I was wondering if you needed something to keep you warm."

Hermione clutched it and gave him a teasing look.

"What?"

"Is the Draco Malfoy I know turning into a concerned man?"

Draco's heart beat faster than usual at the sound of his first name rolling off her tongue.

"Stop dreaming, Granger," he replied, his voice cracking. He swallowed subtly and continued. "Anyway, if you need me, I'm downstairs."

"Thanks." Hermione smiled gratefully as she slipped on his sweater.

Draco's cheeks flamed at the sight of her gleaming lips flickering under wandlight.

"Anytime."

He was about to leave when Hermione asked one more question he wasn't sure he could answer.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

He stopped in his tracks.

"What?"

Hermione got up and walked towards him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Well, lately, we've been fighting but not in those verbally abusive retorts and we've also—"

She was cut off by Draco's hand cupping over her mouth.

"Merlin, Granger," he whispered. "You sound like those colorful parrots that won't stop talking."

Her response was muffled.

Draco took his hand away and realized that he had slightly touched the lips of Hermione Granger with a brush of his hand. How he longed for them. He again brushed away the thought, thinking it was sleep deprivation, and wished her goodnight instead.

Hermione walked back to her bed and she slept peacefully.

Draco knew he had to get back downstairs so he could sleep but a nagging thought told him that he couldn't bear to see her struggle sleeping again so instead, he transfigured her ottoman into a duvet and he sat there, watching her.

He willed himself not to say it with all his might but the guilty truth had to let slip.

"You look so beautiful." He whispered as he slowly parted her curls and the back of his hand brushed the outside of her white cheeks. He tried to resist yet again, but his hand involuntarily hovered over her mouth and his thumb brushed the structure of her red lips and again Draco smiled inwardly. He glanced at her again to make sure she was sound asleep. He glanced at his gleaming wand.

"_Nox._"

All was quiet.

The waves that rushed to shore so quickly woke Draco gently. He fluttered open his eyes and he saw that a small ray of sunlight had entered the windows.

He rubbed his eyes and he smiled.

He hadn't slept this well in days.

He slowly rose from the ottoman/couch and stretched quietly. He saw that Hermione was sleeping peacefully on her bed, not wanting to be disturbed. Her hair was flailing around her pillows but her arms were tucked neatly under her head as she emitted soft inhalations and exhalations, obviously still in slumber.

But not once did Draco touch her and he remembered that he did at two AM that same morning. _It was probably the fatigue that got to me_, he insisted.

He walked out of the bedroom but went back in to transfigure the couch back into an ottoman. _I couldn't let Granger know that I slept in her room_, he thought. _It would be beyond embarrassing. Why was I keeping guard anyway?_

His heart began to thud as his mind worked otherwise.

_Because I'm a great roommate, that's all_.

He smirked to himself as his response overpowered guilty thoughts.

_Draco – 1, Subconscious – 0_

He left his rings on the side table of Hermione and went to the bathroom to bathe. After an hour, he spread some gel on his tow-colored coif and sprayed on some wood spice, his favorite cologne.

He washed his hands a second time and hung his towel on the rack. He was glad Hermione had a non-effeminate bathroom in Shell Cottage because the pinks and the lavenders were really getting to him. He was glad that Hermione allowed him to personalize his bathroom and it did look good: green towels hung neatly on the automatic heating rack, the green shower curtain translucent against the light that shone from the window above the bath, his products grouped neatly on the sink countertop, and some Warlock Weekly's Issues stuffed in a mahogany magazine rack.

He put on a white, loose-fitting, cotton sleeved shirt, slightly tight black pants, and a new pair of white trainers. He unbuttoned two buttons of his top and emerged out of the bathroom. "_Accio clock!" _and a clock appeared to show the time: 9 AM. He smiled. He had slept a good seven hours.

He returned back to the bathroom to lather some lotion on his skin (_Sorry for the vanity. How on earth can I maintain my good looks? _He apologized to himself good-naturedly) and descended down the stairs to grab a book off the shelf. He put on his silver frames and opened the door of the cottage to sit on its porch. He always wanted to try reading while overlooking the sea and he sighed as the waves rushed idly towards the shore.

"Mmmmm…"

Hermione stirred as light fought to make her rise. She finally succumbed to light's calling and woke up to the most beautiful sight ever. She opened the window slightly and a rush of cold air blew. It was well off the first week of winter but she was in a sunny area so it didn't really matter. She settled on her ottoman and found two sparkling pieces of jewelry on her side table.

She picked them up and out of involuntary movement slipped them on. She shivered slightly as the ring's cold touch spread throughout her warm body. She felt the band of the ring and realized she touched an engraving. She put it under sunlight and it showed:

Pansy Parkinson-Malfoy

_Pansy Parkinson-Malfoy? _She sniggered. _I can't believe Draco allowed her to use his last name_.

Hermione glanced at the fit of his ring on her finger. It was perfect and Hermione felt herself blushing as she put a hand to her cheek. It was a bit hot.

She then realized what she was doing and took the rings off. Why had she worn his rings in the first place? Why had she called him Draco in her mind? She fumed and chided herself.

She heard the screen door open and Hermione put the rings back on the table hurriedly and she heard the screen door shut.

"Malfoy?"

No response.

_Oh, he must be outside._

She bathed for fifteen minutes and sprayed some sweet-smelling fragrances that had notes of lavender in them. She tamed her messy curls and put some lip gloss on her chapped lips. She pinched her cheeks for some color and descended down the stairs.

What was she getting dressed up for? This was her house. Was she trying to impress—

_No, I'm not._

"Malfoy?"

She opened the screen door and found Draco reading a book on the porch.

"Good morning."

He greeted as he turned to face her with his bookish look.

"Well, that's a surprise."

"What is?"

"You're wearing glasses and you're reading a book."

He narrowed his eyes playfully.

"Are you trying to insult my intelligence, Granger?"

Hermione nodded.

"And why is that?"

"I don't really think you're intelligent enough, Malfoy."

"I guess you've indirectly stated that in your previous comment about my reading glasses and my book. Is that all?"

"No. I just think you were stupid enough to marry Pansy Parkinson."

Draco raised his pale eyebrows in surprise.

"Are you jealous?"

Hermione realized what she said and shook her head no violently.

"Stop shaking your head like so, Granger. You look like you're having a seizure."

Draco smirked even more.

"Do you want my hand in marriage or something?"

"Dream on, Malfoy."

Draco grinned.

Hermione grinned back.

They looked at each other for a while and Draco coughed to break the silence.

They turned away and they looked at the idle movement of the waves. Draco noticed that she was shivering.

"It's only 18 degrees out here, Granger," he commented as he glanced at his shaking roommate. "It's not like we're in a freezer."

"Well, I'm a bit sensitive but I'll be fine."

"Always trying to put a brave front, eh, Granger?"

Hermione punched him in his toned arm playfully.

"Shut up."

Draco smiled and went back to reading.

Hermione was lost in her thoughts when she felt a warm touch hover over her shoulder. She realized that Draco covered her with his black cloak and smoothed its creases with his warm hands.

She smiled as she inhaled the scent of spicy wood notes that came off of his cloak and side-peeked at Draco.

Draco took off his glasses and side-peeked back as if sensing her heat. He looked up after.

_Draco – one, subconscious – on—_

Shut up.


	19. Chapter 18: Pansy Parkinson

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

**A/N: A Pansy Parkinson chapter. :-) I know she may be seen merely as a stupid hussy that Draco hooked around. [Yes, Pansy is a hookee in HIMYM terminologies. Sorry for the allusions! I luv HIMYM that much] READ ON.  
**

Mrs. Malfoy sipped her Bourbon with finesse as she glanced at the German bar with exquisite boredom. She glanced snootily at the guests that passed in and out of the area and sipped some more. She loved being called Mrs. Malfoy by everyone…

Oh, who was she kidding?

She was still Pansy Parkinson, ring or no ring. She didn't know why her husband Draco insisted on keeping her last name just in case they broke up.

"How could he think of such a possibility?" she muttered to herself.

What had happened to the Draco that she married?

She thought of the night when he proposed.

_"I officially declare you all graduate students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" Dumbledore announced._

_ The batch of graduates clapped and whooped as the faculty members called out their names individually and received their NEWTS._

_ 1998's Pansy Parkinson huffed as she glanced at her uneasy seatmate Draco. Oh how she had adored him! Platinum blond hair all slicked back, steely, grey eyes that were cruel at first sight, but a fiery passion that welled up one who stared even deeper into them. She grabbed his hands and interlaced her fingers in the empty spaces between his fingers. _

_ Draco smiled and looked at her._

_ "Hello, m'dear," he whispered. "Why aren't you paying attention?"_

_ Pansy giggled flirtatiously. _

_ "Honestly, Drakey?" she whispered back. "You're listening to this crap?"_

_ Draco smirked._

_ "Am I stupid or what?"_

_ He playfully punched her arm._

_ She rubbed it to ease the soft impact._

_ "Oh, Drakey," she ran her right hand up and down his left arm. "You are never stupid."_

_ She touched his nose playfully and rested her head on his shoulder._

_ Draco looked ahead as he patiently waited for his name to be called. _

_ Pansy had wondered why Draco looked a bit uneasy after their brief flirtation._

_ It was almost as if he expected something._

_ "Draco Mal—"_

_ An explosion occurred._

_ "Oh, Draco?" a shrilly voice bounced off the walls of the school._

_ Pansy gasped and gripped Draco's arm in fear._

_ "I-is that—"_

_ "Bellatrix?" Draco whispered nervously. "Yes, it is."_

_ The students ran amok as Draco pulled Pansy into a corner._

_ She saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione run after the Death Eaters to duel._

_ He could've sworn he turned to look at Hermione but she didn't mind. She thought she was just seeing things._

_ Draco pulled Pansy into a corner and pinned her against the wall._

_ "Oh, Draco, how romantic!" she trilled, her voice ecstatic with glee._

_ Draco looked around and sweating nervously, he kissed her._

_ Well, of course, she kissed back._

_ He broke off real quick and Pansy held his face as he put his hands over hers._

_ "Why did you break it off so…"_

_ "Will you marry me?"_

_ Pansy gasped as he knelt down and a diamond stone glinted in the faint sliver of moonlight._

_ "Of course, of course!"_

_ She leapt into his arms and they kissed again._

_ Draco looked happy and he said,_

_ "The War is starting. Protect yourself. Apparate to the Manor and I'll see you then, okay, love?"_

_ He kissed her hand and she blushed ever so furiously._

_ "Okay. Will you promise me you'll come back?"_

_ He nodded._

_ "Go, Pansy," he whispered hurriedly. "GO!"_

_ Pansy obeyed as Draco witnessed her dismissing CRACK!_

_ Draco walked off to the hall stairs and ascended._

_ Pansy Apparated into a hall._

_ Oops, this is still Hogwarts, she thought._

_ She saw Draco walk toward her and she hid behind a wall._

_ She saw him enter the Room of Requirement and she thought to herself that he had a mission so she disappeared._

Pansy sighed as she remembered the memory and saw her ring glinting.

The diamond had not lost its sheen.

_But why had he changed? _She thought.

"Who changed?" a voice replied.

"Draco?" she turned around so much, she lost her balance and was about to drop on the hard floor when an arm helped her up.

"On the contrary, Pansy," the voice said. "It's—"

"Blaise?" she rubbed her eyes.

"I'm glad you didn't turn out to be as drunk as I thought you would be. Yes, it's me."

She hugged him maladroitly and Blaise brought her to a table and chair.

"Why are you drinking yourself imprudently? That is not how a Malfoy should act…"

"Why must I act like a Malfoy, Blaise, when I don't even have that last name pinned to mine?" she asked out loud.

He snorted.

"Excuse me?"

Pansy looked at him with steamy vision.

"I still am Pansy Parkinson!" she laughed bitterly and hiccupped.

"Stop talking like that."

"Well, it's true!"

He laughed at Pansy's maladroitness. He glanced at her knowingly.

"Well, since you're drunk, you probably won't remember anything, yes?"

Pansy nodded clumsily as her head hit the table.

"There is no easy way to say this, Pansy."

Pansy looked up, her hair messy and untamed.

"Just go ahead, Blaise!" she nodded vigorously as she swung her arms. "Ir's just between you and me…"

Her head fell on the table again.

"I've always loved you."

Pansy looked up, looking completely sober.

"What did you say?"

"Do I have to repeat myself?"

She grinned wildly.

"Oh, do you really love me?"

Pansy pointed blankly.

Blaise nodded seriously.

"Well, finally, someone who loves me back."

"Draco loves you, right?" he replied, staring at his butterbeer bottle pensively. His voice sounded pained.

"Uh, yeah, he doesn't!" she laughed bitterly again.

"What do you mean?"

Pansy started babbling on about her marriage problems with Draco and Blaise listened intently.

"So, are you divorcing him?"

Pansy shook her head no.

"Oh, all right then," he stood up, dejected. "I'd better be going."

"Blaise!" she called back from the table.

"What?"

"Aren't you going to bring me home?" she winked.

"No. I'm not planning on sleeping with you."

"But you said you loved me."

"Yes, but that was until I found out you're not divorcing Draco. Why would I end up the mister in this relationship?"

"You're just going to bring me home!"

"Love and empty love are two different things, Pans."

"We're both suffering from empty love, right?" she said as she stood up, still drunk. "Then let's make love, Blaise! Let's make love!"  
"I'm tempted, but I can't, Pansy. You know that."

Pansy kissed him.

And that spelled everything.

**A/N: where are my reviews? :-( huhu.**


	20. Chapter 19: In The Forbidden Forest

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

**A/N: I made Dolohov quite stupid in this fanfic of mine. And you will notice that Harry, Ron, and Ginny are quite mobile because due to Dolohov's stupidity, their ropes were tied not too tightly.  
**

The Hogwarts grounds looked very sinister in the night, as Harry Potter could have remembered. His mind flashed back to the time he and Draco had walked around in the Forbidden Forest as a form of McGonagall's detention. It was funny, remembering Draco's mouth opening ever so widely at the sounds nature had created.

Through a pair of twenty-six year old eyes, he had seen no change whatsoever in the grounds. He still remembered the different pathways each marking on each tree had led to. One led to the centaurs' homes and the other way went to Aragog's web. Harry side-glanced at Ron, held by Yaxley, and smirked.

Ron, who was busy struggling with Yaxley to let him go, looked at Harry and stared hard at his best friend.

"What now?"

"Do you remember everything that took place here, Ron?"

"Why are we strolling down memory lane, Harry?"

Ron fiddled with his rope as he kicked Yaxley in the knees.

The Death Eater squealed.

"This is not really the best time to talk about our memories."

Ginny was bound by Dolohov's ropes and Harry wanted so badly to kick Dolohov in the balls for grasping Ginny's wrists a little too _tightly_.

_Stop touching my girl, Dolohov, _he thought.

_My girl? What about Hermione?_

Harry gasped as he remembered his other best friend isolated in Shell Cottage for her safety. He remembered Malfoy promising him that he would take care of her.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Ginny turned to look at him, concern flooding her face.

Harry smiled at the way the moonlight spotlighted on his best friend's sister. The pale glow highlighted the off-white complexion of Ginny and gave a sort of fiery light that emitted from the red head of hair she had. Her eyes were dancing and sparkling iridescently and her lips were gleaming.

"You're turning red, Harry. Is Yaxley holding you too tight?" she whispered mockingly.

Harry gave her a playful dirty look.

"Oh, Weasley, the ever smart mouth."

"Shut up, little girl," Yaxley snarled. "Or I'll have you eaten by Greyback. He likes redhead lassies like you."

Ginny kept quiet but shared a silent laugh with Harry.

"Always keeping me out of your conversations, eh?" Ron neared them.

The two spun their heads to look at Ron who was bumbling behind.

Yaxley was struggling to hold Harry and Ron so he let Thorfinn Rowle take care of the boy wonder.

Yes, the forest was not at all different from what Harry had remembered. But the people he was with sure brought a change to the memory table.

"Where are you taking us?" Ginny asked, holding in the quiver she let out a bit too obvious.

"And why should we tell you?" Rowle sneered. "So you can light up a bloody firelight or whatever you call that alerting beacon thing!"

"It's called a Firebolt, you ninny!" Dolohov replied just as stupidly.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Dolohov!" Harry interjected. "That's my broom!"

"Oh, so you think that your damn broom could alert the Order of the Dove or something…"

Harry slapped his forehead in frustration.

"It's Order of the Phoenix, Dolohov."

Dolohov's head whipped towards Harry's.

"Are you insulting my intelligence?"

"_What _intelligence, Dolohov?"

"All right, that's it—"

The Death Eater whipped his wand out from his pocket and was about to Crucio Harry when Rowle stopped him.

"Antonin, you serious?"

"Thorfinn, he tried to insult my intelligence!"

"Well, we have to wait for the master!"

"Oh, right."

Harry sniggered softly.

Dolohov took him by the collar, Harry's bound hands swinging to and fro.

"Yer going to pay for insultin', Potter," he asserted gruffly. "Wait 'til The Dark Lord whacks you hard."

"Whacks?" Harry laughed painfully. "That's a ten-pence word."

Dolohov dropped him and Harry fell on the ground hard.

"Wastin' me time with yer debatin'," Dolohov muttered. "Intelligence ain't important when yer dyin' soon."

"I'm literally dying right now, Dolohov," Harry retorted. "Dying due to your lack in word formation and sense, to put it plainly."

Dolohov reached for his wand again due to frustration but Harry, who had sudden rushes of aggression, pulled his own.

"Not 'til The Dark Lord, right?"

Dolohov grumbled.

Ginny sighed as she sat down on the hard, cobbled floor of the forest. Dumbledore really didn't do anything much to improve the beauty (was there any to start with?) of the forbidden ground. Well, of course, what was there to improve? It was _forbidden._

She saw that she was kind of alone but with Dolohov, dangling like a loose tassel on her throw pillow back at the Burrow.

"Must you follow me around like a sick puppy?"

Dolohov glared at her from behind.

"Don't be stupid, Weasley girl," he taunted. "If we're naming sick puppies between the both of us, it would be you."

"And why would that be, you no-good stupid git?"

"Because you and your family is chock-full of _blood traitors._"

"How dare you say such a—"

"It's called the truth," Dolohov argued. "I thought you silly Gryffindors were familiar with that."

"I am happy and sodding pissed at you right now."

"Pissed, why?"

"Well, I know a curse word would have been more suitable but get it in your damn brain that we aren't… why am I bothering to explain to you?"

"What are you babbling about?"

"I'm actually quite happy you speak English!"

Dolohov cursed.

"Why, ye little—"

"!"

Ginny and Dolohov stood up.

"Harry!"

Dolohov cackled mercilessly.

"Now, yer precious mate will die ternight!"

Dolohov was quite inconsistent with his languages. Yes, he is really rather stupid.

Ginny stood up and followed the direction of Harry's scream.

"Oy, Weasley!" Dolohov ran after her. "Where do you think you're going?"

Ginny sped up, her bound arms achingly swinging with the motion.

She turned around to see sparks flying aimlessly at her as she breathlessly picked her cadence up.

_He wasn't muttering anything_, her thoughts pounding as sweat started to drip down her forehead.

_He's using his signature curse! The one that Hermione suffered through in fifth year!_

She turned around to verify and indeed, the signature red sparks had chased after her and Dolohov not so far behind.

"I'll get ye fer this, Weasley!"

"Not if I can help it!" Ginny exclaimed, withdrawing her wand. "_Bombarda!_"

An explosion appeared in front of Dolohov.

"_Tarantangella!_" the Death Eater replied.

Ginny's legs started dancing and prancing.

"_Finite Incantatem!"_ she pointed to her legs and the dancing stopped.

She sped up even more and heard Dolohov chanting the Body Bind spell.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_"

"_Protego!_"

The spell returned to Dolohov, locking his body parts together and making him immobile.

"That should hold you off for a while, ye stupid bint." Ginny laughed, imitating Dolohov's accent.

Ginny picked up speed and found Harry bleeding profusely as Voldemort _Crucio'd_ him. Ron was put through the same treatment by Yaxley and Rowle.

"_Expelliarmus!_" she pointed at the two Death Eaters and their wands flew off their hands and the two hit two trees.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_"

The two Death Eaters froze and fell down on the ground, immobile just like how Ginny had left Dolohov.

"Where is she?" Voldemort whispered venomously.

"I do not know what or _who_ you're referring to."

"Where is she?" Voldemort repeated, his noseless face pressing closer towards Harry's.

"Who, Voldemort, who?"

"Where is the mudblood?"

Ginny and Ron gasped simultaneously.


	21. Chapter 20: A Night Out with Hermione

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

**A/N: longest chapter ever written! my second favorite after "The Return." Have fun, friends.  
**

"Hnnngrrhh…" Draco stirred from the living room.

He rubbed his eyes and looked out the glass divider that separated the porch from the inside. The waves were looking mighty calm today. Strange.

But he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Something was not quite right. He stood up, half-naked, and stretched a little bit before he ascended up the stairs to sneak a quick glance at his roommate.

He had done that, much to his chagrin, for the past few days now. Every now and then, he'd go up the wooden staircase and peek through the slightly opened door of Hermione's bedroom. He'd laugh softly at the way her head would move around the pillows violently and get her curls up in a tizzy when she'd be in motion. He also liked the fact that the way she slept and the way she moved around her bed was as if she were caught in a tempest. A most violent of tempests that Draco subconsciously wished he were part of.

But he knew that the wedding band he was wearing slightly felt a bit heavy, its weight weighing down on his ring finger like a ship on its way to sinking in the ocean. It was due to guilt, he figured. What other feeling could he have felt? He knew he couldn't feel this way for her and yet he did.

He knew that he'd had marital problems with Pansy and even though he thought she was stupid, he knew she knew that they had problems. He knew that Pansy went away to take a break and just used a "business trip" as a stupid excuse.

_It was all because of that kiss_, he thought. _If he hadn't kissed her, none of this would have happened._ He admitted that he had gotten a little soft ever since he'd encountered his old school nemesis. Where had the retorts gone? Why had his smirks been replaced by smiles? He hated this new Draco. What was happening to his edge? His bad boy aura? His dark personality?

_Okay, enough with this nonsense, Draco_, he thought to himself. _You cannot simply start liking some Mudblood just because you've spent a lot of time with her and that she had kissed you nine years ago_.

He had started to argue with his mind.

_It's been nine years, you stupid git_. _Get over that kiss. I doubt she will ever kiss you. She likes Potty, remember?_

He nodded solemnly.

He wanted to scream at her.

He wanted to kiss her.

He wanted to torture her and belittle her.

He wanted to take her by the waist and pull her close until their breathing becomes mutual.

He wanted to jeer her with names.

He wanted to run his fingers through her tamed curls.

He wanted to make her cry.

He wanted to cry.

He wanted to get mad at her.

_He was mad for her._

"SHUT UP, YOU STUPID SUBCONSCIOUS!" Draco boomed. "I HAVE MADE UP MY MIND. I AM TO HATE HER FOR ALL ETERNITY."

_This was just a phase_, he thought. _You still hate her deep inside._

He muttered, "Mudblood Granger," over and over until he felt the familiar boiling blood he'd feel whenever he'd think about Muggle and Pureblood association. AHH! He was back.

He charged up the stairs and was about to scream at her for no good reason when he found her absent. She wasn't in her bedroom.

All he saw was his trenchcoat lying on top of her unmade bed, wet.

"What the—" he barged into her room and found that his trenchcoat was soaked.

"This was limited edition!"

He held his favorite accessory and clenched his fists.

"You're going to pay for this, Granger!"

No response.

"Granger?"

No response again.

"Granger, you stupid—"

He found her window to be open.

Being fit and physically able, he was able to slide through the glass opening and was led to the top of Shell Cottage.

"Granger, you insolent brat!" he exclaimed. "Why on earth do you have my coat in a frenzy pile of wet Mudblood tears? Do you know how much—"

He saw Hermione all right.

But he wasn't sure if that was really _her_.

If he knew any better, the Hermione that he remembered would challenge him to several death rounds of verbal insults that no other pair of debaters can top.

The Hermione he laid his eyes on had her back turned, gazing towards the horizon that the sea had opened. Her curls were whipping wildly in the wind and Draco felt a numb sensation grip his entire hand.

He heard sniffling.

"Granger!" he repeated her name for the third time. "Have you the money to pay for my coat?"

He tried to ignore her sniffling but he couldn't.

Somehow he was overpowered by the raw emotion emitted by his roommate and he approached her, of course with the signature Malfoy confidence.

"What's wrong, Granger?"

He stood beside his roommate, his eyes focused on her.

She turned to look at him with her puffy, brown eyes with tears streaming down her pink-tinged cheeks.

They held each other's gazes for about five minutes before Draco broke it off due to the intensity he felt from the action.

"It's Harry."

Draco felt his heart twist.

"What's with Potter?"

"I just miss him, you know," she croaked, her breath inconsistent. "I know he's still out there somewhere."

"Yeah, I guess."

Hermione inhaled, her breath uneven, as she turned to look back at the waves.

"What about Weasley?" he asked. "Don't you miss him too?"

"Yeah, but it's different with Harry."

"Why is it so different?"

"I love them both, but I think Ron and I just remain on a platonic level, that's all."

Draco's heart twisted even more. He could've sworn he felt knots of jealousy.

_Jealousy? NO!_

Silence hovered over them like a cloud.

"You know what," Draco broke the silence. "We should do something different tonight."

Hermione faced him and her brows furrowed.

"Why?"

"Well, Pansy's returning tonight," he sighed heavily as it dawned on him that it will be the last night he'd spend with her. _Not that it mattered. REALLY! It didn't matter to him at all._ "And I don't want to see you looking like such a sourpuss. You remind me of Filch's cat Mrs. Norris."

"Norris?" Hermione laughed softly.

"Or your stupid cat, Crookshanks!"

"Why are you calling my cat stu—"

She looked at him, eyebrow raised.

"What now, Granger?"

"You remembered that I had a cat?"

Draco realized his sudden outburst and wished he could take it back. But the Malfoy way allowed him to escape such a question.

"Of course! Your mangling alleycat just won't stop running around, tearing the halls like some mad animal. Honestly, Granger, why didn't you tame him like you tamed your curls?"

"You noticed my hair?"

"Will you shut up with the observing, Granger!" Draco reddened even more. "Of course, I would notice! I have these two holes you call eyes!"

"All right, all right," Hermione lifted her hands in defeat. "Where exactly are we going?"

"I'll bring you to Shaw Street to shop and then I'll take you out to dinner, maybe have a nightcap?" he winked suggestively. Hermione playfully smacked him. "You're married, Malfoy!" Draco laughed as he nodded at her truth.

They disappeared.

Draco took Hermione shopping to the best boutiques the muggle street had to offer. Although it served as classic distaste to Draco, he was actually enjoying Hermione's raving and running around the shopping areas like a dog freed from its cage.

Draco had left her to go shopping on his own as he bought a new trenchcoat (thank Madame Malkin's for having a spare) and other new attire.

They met on the edge of Shaw Street's roads and they Disapparated back to the cottage.

"What did you purchase, Granger?" he asked as he curiously surveyed the numerous number of bags that she had carried on her arms.

"It's for you to find out." She ascended the wooden staircase and brought the shopping bags with her.

Thirty minutes had passed and the sun was setting. Draco had already dressed up in his signature white polo, two buttons unfastened, that he tucked in his black trousers, and paired them both off with a spanking new pair of black shoes. He affixed his messy black tie and hung it around the polo but tucked neatly under the collars. He had put on some wood spice cologne and messed his usually neat blonde hair. He swept his bangs to the side and was fixing the belt on his trousers when he heard heely footsteps come down the stairs.

He looked up and his usually bored-looking greys widened at the sight of Hermione Granger. Her hair was up like in the Yule Ball with some loosened golden brown curls cascading down her neck and pinned up by a metallic purple diamond barrette. She had violet flower studs on her ears and a gold necklace that hung loosely on her chest. She was wearing a green halter dress that had ruffles on the chest area and the dress stopped short to the lower part of her thighs. She had on gold stilettos (was that the term they used in the Wizarding World too?) and a gold bangle on her right arm. She looked like a goddess. Well, Draco's goddess for the night.

"So, what do you think?"

Draco simply gaped.

"A tad overdressed?"

Draco coughed.

"You look absolutely perfect."

Hermione blushed slightly at his honest comment and she took his arm gently as they Disapparated with a CRACK!

"So, where is she now?" Hermione asked between forkfuls of salad.

They were at _La Bouillobaise_, a French restaurant in Shaw Street. Draco had no choice. It was either that or Diagon Alley, and obviously muggles weren't allowed inside.

His thoughts fleeted to Voldemort but it dissipated immediately upon returning Hermione's glance.

The candlelight flickered and spotlighted Hermione's features purely. Her hair, luminescent like all forms of light combined, glimmered in the candlelight and her eyes glistened with the soft movement of the fire. Her lips were merrily red and her teeth shone a beautiful shade of white. (Not that white had any other kind of shade)

"You look so beautiful tonight."

_Damn it! _Draco thought.

"Shut up, Malfoy."

But he saw that Hermione shyly tucked a lock of loose curl in her ear.

Draco breathed deeply to rid himself of emotion but all he inhaled was the sweet fragrance of rose and jasmine. It was a sweet smell.

"And to answer your question," Draco cleared his throat. "Pansy's in Berlin right now, doing some business-related work."

Hermione noticed that he was fiddling distractedly with his ring. She glanced at his hands and she had remembered how soft they were. She moved her eyes up to the silver wedding band and wished that his wedding band were on her ring finger because she knew it fit perfectly the last time she wore it.

_Oh, good Merlin, what am I thinking?_ She thought. _It must be all that wine._

"Would you like some more wine, Madame?" the waiter asked.

"No, thank you." She replied politely.

They bantered on about their personal lives while sharing the most expensive piece of steak and potatoes. After Draco handled the check, they walked on the pavements of Shaw Street and lost themselves in a corridor.

"OY! WATCH IT!"

A motorcycle was running through the alley and Hermione was in the way. Draco took her hand and pulled her out of the way but even closer to his body.

She gasped in surprise.

"Loony, he was!" she exclaimed.

Hermione peeked down and noticed that Draco had not let go of her hand. In fact, their fingers were interlaced. She looked up and saw that Draco's eyes were boring into hers.

His tantalizing stare had lost the conversation pieces that Hermione had cooked up in her brain just in case it got awkward. To break the silence, she blurted:

"Did you really think I was beautiful?"

Her cheeks felt hot and she was quivering.

_No, wrong question._

Draco smirked.

"Awaiting my approval?"

Hermione narrowed her eyebrows.

"No, I just wanted… never mind." She looked away shamefully.

"Yes."

Hermione turned around again.

"Yes what?"

She felt a giddy flutter in her stomach.

"Yes, I did think you were beautiful tonight," he smirked. "For a mudblood."

"Oh."

She giggled softly, ignoring the dig.

Draco smiled.

_Oh, Merlin,_ he thought. _These kissing urges are back again!_

Still holding her hand, he walked her to a garden in the area and they were turning around the park until they reached a spot under a tree.

Draco lay down and Hermione followed suit as they looked up at the starlit sky.

"My father took my mother out on a date to look at the stars one day," he suddenly mentioned. "Well, fine, they kind of snuck out of the Yule Ball because they hated their dates so much. Want to hear the story?"

"Sure, sounds interesting."

"My father would point out different stars and my mother would turn red a lot."

She nodded.

"You want to know something?" Draco asked as they settled on the soft grass.

"What?"

"That star," he pointed toward a constellation. "is the Draco. That's how they found their first common thing. They would name their son Draco in the future."

He smirked proudly. "Voila! Am I _the _hottest star around or what?"

"Wow!" she exclaimed. "It looks more evil and snarkier in the sky."

"Hey, take that back!"

"It's the truth!"

They bickered for a while until they decided to just lay there quietly, staring.

"You want to know something else, Granger?"

"What?"

He stood up and held his hand out.

"Come with me."

"Okay…?"

They walked down a path in the garden and Hermione was shivering.

Draco took his trenchcoat off and put it on Hermione who took it gratefully.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Is that what your father did too?"

"Yeah," he replied. "My mother loved it. The guy was a romantic."

He put his hands in his trouser pockets and side-peeked at Hermione who was awed by the numerous trees that surrounded the two of them.

"Are we there yet?" Hermione inquired.

"Yes, we are."

Hermione looked up to see the most beautiful constellation she had ever seen. It shone even more brightly than the Draco did.

"What is that?" she ooh-ed in wonder.

"That is the Scorpius."

"It certainly outshined your star." She laughed softly.

"Oh, shut up, will you?" he smiled.

"So, what happened next?"

"Well, my father said he held Mother's hand like so," he interlaced his fingers in hers. "and they watched the Draco in its full glory."

"That's all?"

"Yeah."

"It's so romantic," she gushed. "I never expected Lucius and Narcissa to be that way."

"Well, there are a lot of things you don't know about me, Granger."

"Oh, really? Aside from being a rebel child?"

"Well, yes, actually. I was going to bring that up. I just wanted to say my father didn't really get my mother right away."

"But why?" she wondered. "He'd done the most romantic things…"

Draco pulled her closer.

"But he was wrong on two different accounts." His voice dropped to a whisper.

"And what were those two accounts?" She could smell wood spice notes invading her nostrils.

"First, he never told Mother that she was the most beautiful girl in the world," Draco stroked Hermione's cheeks with his index finger and he felt heat emit from her face due to her blushing.

"And… And what was the second one?"

She could feel his lips move nearer to hers.

"He failed to kiss her."

Hermione's eyes widened as she saw Draco inch closer and closer. She could feel his soft, gentle breathing on her face. She moved in closer and closer until a gut feeling told her otherwise.

"Malfoy!" she pushed his face away.

Draco's face moved backwards.

"What?"

"I can't… I can't do this."

Draco checked to see what was wrong with her until he saw the glinting silver band. _Oh, right._

His stomach tightened.

"I…" his voice trailed off.

He let go of her waist and he started walking away.

"Malfoy!" she called after him.

He didn't heed her call.

His feet crunching on wet, snowy grass, he kept on walking. He suddenly grew numb with fear and guilt. _Merlin, I was going to cheat on Pansy with a mudblood._

"Malfoy!"

Draco's head started to pound at the tinny voice that rang in his head.

_She was so persistent._

He turned towards her direction and saw her quite perfectly even at such a far distance.

Her eyes were glassy and she was gripping on to his trenchcoat tightly.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Draco walked back.

"Oh, right," he said as he arrived at the spot where he had left her. He tried to remove it from her but somehow he felt her grip tighten on his coat.

"Granger," he whispered coldly. "I need this back."

Hermione let in a cracked inhalation.

"Oh."

She was about to take the coat off when Draco's hand met hers.

The touch was brief, but the effects sort of lasted for more than a minute. Draco stifled his cracking voice.

"Well," he broke the silence. "I have to go now. Pansy's expecting me."

Hermione nodded slowly, as if trying to pretend that she had not heard that.

"Thank you." She cracked a forced smile.

"For what?"

"For everything."

Draco inhaled again, his resistance to kiss her dissipating every time he tried to look away.

"Granger, before I go," he glanced at his trenchcoat on Hermione. "You can have that coat."

He could have sworn he saw Hermione's face light up.

"Really?"

He nodded.

"I don't want you to freeze to death."

They both coughed as silence rained down again.

Draco sighed.

"Well, this is goodbye then," he started walking towards the evergreen trail. "Be safe."

Hermione nodded stiffly.

"I will be."

Draco reached the evergreen trail when he heard Hermione call after him.

"Malfoy!"

"Yeah?"  
"I hope Pansy's home safe too!"

Draco's heart twisted again.

"Thanks!"

Draco's stomach tightened as he got ready to Disapparate. He peered through one of the trees and took one long look at Hermione Granger.

Her figure was vividly imprinted in Draco's mind and he longed for time to allow him to hold her by the waist a little bit longer. But no, time wouldn't allow it. After all, he was to be bound to Pansy Parkinson forever. He had started to contemplate about this marriage just disappearing and he started wishing that his commitment were nothing but a nightmare. The one reality he had wanted to happen right there and right now was about 10 yards away, standing and sauntering across the grass, staring at the Scorpius.

Truth dared to aggress itself on the Malfoy boy that although he could buy anything he wanted, money could never give him what he _needed_.

His head pounded as his body started to get sucked in a capsule, signaling his Disapparition.

_Money could never get him what he needed._

As much as he was willing to pay Merlin or whoever the most powerful being was, he can never have Hermione Granger.

And that in itself was painful.

Hermione Granger heard a _crack!_ echo throughout the forest and she realized that he had returned back home.

She felt tears stream down her cheeks as the thoughts of her and Malfoy were nothing but memories. She gripped on his coat tighter, wishing it were a lamp that could bring him back. She inhaled the scent of his cologne and as the Scorpius' luminescence began to die down, she sat on the grass and felt herself gripping her hand.

At that exact moment, reality began to dawn on her that even the biggest star could not change what the present had offered to her. She was left all alone with nothing but a trenchcoat and her mind.

Her hands stuffed themselves into the pockets and she felt her fingers knock into something round. She fished it out and saw a remembrall filled with white, glowing slivers of memory.

_I wonder what this is, _she thought as she opened the ball.

_Knock, knock._

Draco waited impatiently for the door to be answered.

As the door creaked open, he gasped as he saw the least person he wanted to see gripping the locket of Hermione Granger.

"How long, Draco?" Lucius whispered venomously.


	22. Chapter 21: Where Is The Mudblood?

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

"Don't be stupid, Voldemort!" Harry managed, his scar threatening to split into two. "Hermione's dead."

He forced his voice to sound mournful and heavy.

Ron and Ginny looked downcast.

"You stupid boy," Voldemort growled. "You're lying. _CRUCIO!_"

Harry screamed in pain.

Ginny looked away and cried on Ron's shoulder.

Ron shut his eyes, not wanting to look at his best friend being tortured.

"What…"

Voldemort's ears perked up.

"What…"

Harry couldn't bring himself to say it. The pain was writhing throughout his whole body like snake venom, slowly killing him inside.

"What…"

Voldemort glared at his victim.

"Say it, Potter!"

"You brainless demon!" Ron boomed, surprised by his sudden aggression. "HE'S BEING CRUCIO'D!"

Voldemort turned to face Ron and narrowed his eyebrows.

"Who are you to speak to me that way," Voldemort glared as he continued. "Blood traitor."

Ron quivered but remained nose-to-nose with the Dark Lord.

"Speak for yourself," he argued. "Tom Riddle."

Voldemort's eyes widened (This is quite a big deal for Voldemort to widen his eyes. His pupils were the size of check marks to put it simply. If he widened his eyes, he's furious.) and aimed his wand at Ron's chest.

"_Avada Kedav—"_

"_PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"_

Voldemort froze, his wand dropping to the floor as Harry stood up, still shaky from the curse. He fell as his stamina weakened. Ron helped him up and let him lean on his shoulders.

"Thanks, mate." Ron muttered.

Harry smiled despite the after-effects of Crucio.

"No problem," Harry replied as he tried to walk. "It's been nine years too long that I have shunned opportunities to help you."

Ron smiled back and they hugged.

"RONALD!" Ginny snapped. "You're hurting Harry."

Harry managed a feeble smile at Ginny.

Ginny blushed.

"Now who's hurting whom?" Ron whined. "You two are continuing to sicken me, emotionally. It's disgusting, your relationship."

"Oh shut up, Ron." Ginny bent down to see Harry.

There were three cuts on his face and Ginny touched the white, unfazed parts of his face.

"Are you okay?" Ginny whispered.

Harry gazed at her.

"I am now."

"I am seriously going to hurl. STOP IT."

Harry and Ginny laughed.

Crickets were chirping as the trio sat down under the tree. Somehow, even if Harry knew time will never allow it, he wished he could go back to his first year. As stupid as it sounds, he wished he could go back to detention again. He missed his innocence, he missed his Hogwarts life, and he missed his best friends. Sure, Ron was still there, Ginny too, and he knew that Hermione was safe in the hands of Malfoy…

"Hermione!"

Ron gasped.

"Harry," he said slowly. "She's been dead for nine years."

Harry looked at his best friend and at his (oh, what do we call Ginny?) object of fancy. (there we go!)

"I have something that I have been meaning to tell you."

Ron's eyes widened. (This is not as creepy as Voldemort's because at least, Ron does not have slits for eyes.)

"Hermione's still alive."

Ron gasped.

"Blimey," he whispered. "Are you sure you aren't hallucinating?"

Harry shook his head slowly.

It was Ginny's turn to act dramatic.

Tears were falling slowly down her cheeks.

"So that means my best friend is still out there?"

"Yes, she still is, Gin."

And he hugged her.

"I thought we stopped doing this!" Ron whined.

The trio laughed peacefully but little did they know that there were footsteps reverberating across the wood.

"That Weasley lass," Dolohov murmured.

Antonin Dolohov was relieved of the hex by Thorfinn Rowle (who was relieved by Voldemort) and together the two Death Eaters trudged up the hill.

"I swear, those stupid golden whatevers…" Rowle could not describe them. He was clearly suffering from the aftermath of the hex or at least, that's what he thought.

"D'you think The Dark Lord will fail this time?" Dolohov asked.

"TAKE THAT BACK, DOLOHOV!" Rowle snarled as he whipped his wand out and aimed it at his companion threateningly. "How could you say such a thing?"

"I…wasn't thinking, Rowle, s'ry bou' tha'." Dolohov stuttered.

"Well, I'm glad ye finally admitted it." Rowle murmured.

Dolohov was about to retort but decided it was not the best time. He just blasphemed against the Dark Lord.

"Do you hear that?" Rowle whispered.

He heard chattering in the far distance.

Rowle casted a Tracing Charm and the wand led them to a patch of forest not so far behind. He and Dolohov walked silently as they reached their destination.

"OY, Rowle, what if we get caught—"

"Shut up, Dolohov! Do you want us to get hexed by these three pigs?"

Dolohov shook his head no.

"Thought so. Now, what are you waiting for? Let's eavesdrop."

"…Shell Cottage…" Rowle recognized the voice of Harry Potter.

"Merlin!" Ron exclaimed. "So she's still alive?"

"Who's still alive?" Dolohov exclaimed.

"Who's there?" Harry pointed his wand at the sound.

"It's D—"

Rowle grabbed Dolohov by the neck and whispered, "Muffliato."

"Do you want Potter to hear us? And then hex us?"

Dolohov shook his head no for the second time.

"How many times must I repeat myself to you, Dolohov?" Rowle muttered. "You could be so stupid…"

"Sometimes?" Dolohov chimed in hopefully.

"I was about to say that because it was such a generic statement but no. You are stupid."

Dolohov hung his head.

"Now cut the semantics and we will listen."

"Semantics? Aren't those the Muggle boat people?"

Rowle slapped his head in frustration.

"Semantics, not SEAMENTICS. You know, I should have let Potter hex you," Rowle replied. "I really should have."

"You don't mean—"

"Shut up and listen! We missed a lot of good points because of your stupidity."

Dolohov uttered no more.

"So she's still alive?"

Rowle removed the _Muffliato_ charm.

"Yes, Hermione's still alive."

Rowle's eyes widened.

_This is big news_, Rowle thought with glee. _The Dark Lord will be so proud._

"And she is living in that cottage?"

_What cottage_? Rowle thought, frustrated. _Leave it to Dolohov and his stupidity._

"Yes."

Ginny and Ron gasped.

"Oh, I can't wait to see her again!"

Harry inhaled deeply.

"Harry?" Ginny looked at him, concerned. "Are you not telling us the complete story?"

Harry shook his head guiltily.

"I hope you won't go pointing your wands at my arse."

Ron shook his head no.

"Okay then," Harry inhaled nervously a second time. "The reason why Hermione's still alive is because…"

Ron's and Ginny's eyes widened in anxiety, frantic to know who is presently attending to Hermione's protection.

"… I told Draco Malfoy to protect her."

Ginny gasped a heavy gasp while Ron just looked at Harry, his eyes poisonous.

"Can you make me an exception to your rule, Harry?"

"What rule, Ron?"

"Can I stick my wand a little bit up your arse?"

_Draco Malfoy? Doesn't he hate purebloods? Blimey, this is a lot to take in._ Rowle grinned madly.

He looked at Dolohov who was sound asleep, exhausted from the day's events. Rowle sighed, exasperated at the partner Voldemort had assigned him, took his arm, and they both Disapparated.

The trio were still bickering but Rowle didn't need to hear it. He got all the information he wanted.


	23. Chapter 22: Draco's Outburst

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

**A/N: I would like to thank OhhKae for reviewing my story. ;-) Since you want to know more, I posted this chapter on just for you. :-) I'm still awaiting more reviews! Please please. x**

"…so The Dark Lord comes over and asks where my son," Lucius continued coldly. "My _pureblood son_, hid the Mudblood."

Draco shifted nervously from one foot to the other.

"How long have you hidden the truth from me, Draco?" Lucius stared disdainfully at him. "Where have you been hiding Granger?"

"I have not been hiding anything." Draco lied coolly.

Lucius glared at him.

"So why do you have a letter from Harry Potter?" Lucius held up a piece of parchment in his hand. "It was talking about protecting his best friend!"

"Oh, please, Father," Draco snapped. "Potter had a hundred best friends. I could have protected Neville Longbottom or some loser like Creevey."

"Colin Creevey was a Mudblood." Lucius corrected him viciously.

Draco blanched at the mistake he made.

"Well," Draco recovered immediately. "why would I keep track of the bloodlines of my schoolmates? I don't give a damn about them."

"How do you explain Shell Cottage, Draco?"

Draco's head pounded at the mention of _Shell Cottage_.

"What?"

Lucius grabbed him by the collar.

"You may be the top assistant here in the Ministry but your brains certainly haven't matured when it comes to simple grammar!" his father spat. "As much as I don't want to admit it, now I know why Granger deserved the top honor."

He dropped Draco on the floor and Draco winced in pain. His heart wrenched at the mention of Hermione Granger.

"It says in the letter that you swore to Potter that you would protect her," he continued. "Who is this _her_, Draco? And don't say Ginny Weasley. I would have been more ashamed if you associated with blood traitors."

"Why would I protect a _her_?" Draco replied, avoiding the question. "I'm already married, Father!"

Lucius laughed evilly.

Draco did not like the sound of that.

"I haven't finished the letter, Draco."

Draco gulped as he loosened his polo.

Beads of nervous sweat were starting to pile on his forehead.

"You swore to protect _Hermione Granger_."

Draco's heart went straight up to his throat.

"And so what if I did?"

Lucius' eyes flickered wildly.

"WHY WOULD YOU, DRACO?" Lucius exclaimed. "WHY WOULD YOU PROTECT A MUDBLOOD?"

"Aren't Malfoys supposed to keep their promises?" Draco smirked.

"Don't you try to bend the rules…"

Lucius lunged for Draco.

"I'm not bending anything, Father," Draco smirked even more. "The only thing bending around here is you."

Lucius gasped.

"How dare you—"

Draco quivered but kept a cool stance.

Lucius straightened up and narrowed his eyes at Draco.

"I just want to know one thing."

"What is it, Father?"

"I want to know why you protected her."

"I said it was a promise to Potter!"

"But your loyalty to the Dark Lord…"

Draco narrowed his eyes.

"The reason why we were saved the first time from the authorities was because of our loyalty to Dumbledore's Army or whatever they call that group," Draco explained. "Do you want to get caught a second time if ever the Dark Lord fails?"

Lucius widened his eyes in horror.

"Such words!" Lucius glared at his son. "What is that Mudblood teaching you, Draco? Son? Should I even call you that?"

Draco's fists clenched at the word _Mudblood._

"Of course you should call me son! I came from you and Mother after all!"

"I don't think I can anymore unless you do one thing."

Draco maintained a straight face as he watched his father get the locket from his trenchcoat pocket.

"The Dark Lord will infiltrate Shell Cottage tomorrow at midnight. But in order for the mudblood to die a more peaceful death…" He held up her locket in front of Draco's face. "You have to kill her."

Draco inhaled deeply.

"You have always told me that I was a rebellious child," Draco said as he neared his father. "Yet you have not seen me disobey one command of yours."

"What's your point?"

"Well, it's time to put that characteristic to good use," Draco replied. "I'm sorry, I can't do that."

"Do you want me to disown you?" Lucius sneered. "Your honors will be gone, your money…"

"If you think I'm going to burst into some poppycock that goes, 'I don't care about money or wealth, I love her, and all that shmeal…' No, it's not going to be that way. I actually have a hell lot of Galleons, sickles, and Knuts in Gringotts that I inherited from you. Yes, we both signed it. And I already own that money since I am already of age, well over the required age actually. My honor? What do I need it for? I myself have honor. I know that I may be disrespecting the Malfoy Way of thinking, but who's to say that _you _can live my life? Even if you try, you cannot Imperius me. Even Pius Thicknesse recovered."

Draco turned on his right heel and walked towards the stairs.

"Or is it because of _love_?"

Draco stopped.

"It's _love_, isn't it?"

Draco did not respond.

Lucius cackled.

"I am so ashamed," he said, his tone icy. "I cannot believe my son had stooped so low as to fall in love with a Mudblood! Are you cheating on Pansy Parkinson?"

"I'm not cheating on Pansy." Draco replied in a small voice.

"I mean, if you had to cheat because she was boring the life out of you, cheat on her with _another _Pureblood, not a _Mudblood._"

"I said, I wasn't cheating on Pansy."

"Really? But do you love Granger?"

Draco did not respond.

"Are you deaf?" Lucius jeered. "Are you in love with her?"

"I'm not in love with the mudblood." Draco replied, not knowing whether it was a lie or not.

Lucius raised his eyebrow.

"Then prove it."

Lucius dropped the locket on the floor and was about to stomp on it when he saw Draco's hand retrieve the jewellery.

"How dare you—"

"FINE, SO I'M IN LOVE WITH HER!" Draco exploded. "And who cares, Father? You cannot and will not _live _my life for me. All these years I have listened to you and tried to impress you even if my morale could not bring itself to do what you want to say—"

"Morale?"

"LET ME FINISH!" Draco snapped. "I am tired of your controlling ways and even if I have to abdicate my stupid inheritance, so be it! I know that I was made to believe that mudbloods aren't supposed to belong but I believed in the power of one couple's love."

Lucius scoffed.

"And what couple would that be?"

"You and Mother."

Lucius gasped.

"Do not ever, _ever_ compare your dirty, filthy affair with that Mudblood to my getting together with Narcissa…"

"I DID NOT HAVE AN AFFAIR WITH GRANGER BECAUSE THAT WOULD GO AGAINST MY COMMITMENT TO PANSY PARKINSON!" Draco was spitting words of fire.

"You make it sound like a contract, Draco! Where are your _manners_?" Lucius retorted just as fiercely.

"THAT'S THE PROBLEM!" Draco replied. "I FEEL LIKE I'M BOUND TO THIS WOMAN THROUGH SIGNATURES AND PAPERS BECAUSE I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH HER! YOU SET ME UP THIS WHOLE TIME, I KNEW IT!"

"Don't you dare raise your voice, Draco…"

"AND MANNERS? I HAD THE DECENCY TO SPARE SOMEONE'S LIFE WHILE YOU ORDERED ME NOT TO. FATHER, PLEASE. IF WE'RE TALKING ABOUT WHO IS THE MORE WELL-MANNERED ONE BETWEEN US TWO, IT'S ME."

"Get out."

Draco inhaled deeply.

"What?"

"You heard me," Lucius snarled. "Get out."

Draco gripped the locket even tighter.

"Gladly."

Draco stormed out of the foyer and out the front door.

He stomped toward the gate and was about to open it when he was face-to-face with his wife.

"Pansy?"

He saw that Pansy's face blanched as she met eye-to-eye with her husband.


	24. Chapter 23: Pansy's Confession

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

"Pans?" Draco croaked. "What's wrong?"

Pansy inhaled nervously.

"Could you come out for a second?"

"Sure, I was just about to anyway."

Draco stepped outside the Manor and shut the gate behind him. He noticed that Pansy carried no luggage.

"Pansy?"

"Hmm?"

"Where'd you put your luggage? Did Nadia take them away already?"

He noticed Pansy's unresponsive movements.

"Am I talking to a rock?" Draco asked impatiently. "Did Nadia—"

"I had an affair with Blaise."

Draco's eyebrows rose.

"What did you say?"

"I'm sorry, Draco!" Pansy blubbered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I was alone in Berlin and he decided to accompany me in the bar…"

"Were you drunk?" he deadpanned.

Pansy did not respond.

"Were _you_?" Draco repeated.

She nodded shamefully.

Draco sighed heavily.

"I'm really sorry," she repeated. "It's just that I needed company and he was there. After a while, the alcohol started to sink in…"

"Spare me the details."

Pansy kept quiet and glanced at the handsome face of her frazzled husband.

"Draco, I—"

"Do you love him?"

"What?"

"Are you deaf, woman?" he snapped. "Answer the question."

"What question?" she asked dumbly.

"Parkinson, stop acting like your normal, stupid self. Do you or do you not _love_ him?"

"I… don't know."

Draco just stared at the neighboring house across the street as he sank down on the cobblestone pavement. Pansy followed suit.

Silence.

"Draco?"

Draco turned to look at his wife. She looked so forlorn and haggard, as if she hadn't slept in weeks.

"Hmm?"

"Are you angry?"

Draco shook his head.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Are you seriously asking that question?"

"It's just that…" Pansy's voice trailed off.

"What?"

"I mean, aren't you supposed to be mad because I _cheated_ on you?"

"What's your point?"

"I _cheated_ on you!"

Draco just laughed.

"Have you been drinking Firewhiskey?" she asked innocently.

"No."

Pansy turned away, looking confused.

"Okay, well, how about this? You tell me the reason why you cheated."

"I was drunk!"

"That's still no excuse. I'm sure Blaise would not want to sleep with you in such a state. Sure, the bloke's in Slytherin but he's a righteous man."

"And how do you know that he didn't intoxicate me?"

"He's my mate, Pansy. We know things about each other."

Pansy nodded slowly.

"So, why did you inebriate yourself?"

"We have marriage problems."

"Excuse me?"

"Look, Draco, we haven't made love in six months. I don't even get a snog from you or a proper kiss from you or a hug from you in public, let alone in private! I can count the number of times we were intimate and whenever we do hug or kiss, that's it! You don't even tell me you love me. We've been fighting a lot before I flew away. I tried to ignore it but it's impossible to forget."

"You want to know what I think?"

"Yes, please."

"We've been together for nine years and I have gotten rather used to your stupidity." Draco glanced at his glaring wife but he ignored it. "And stop glaring at me like that. I do have the right to say that because you cheated on me."

Pansy sighed, defeated.

"Continue, Draco."

"Anyway, what you said about our having marital problems… that's probably the smartest thing you have said this time around. And you're sober!"

"Thanks. Hey!"

"It's true. I'm glad you finally acknowledged our marital problems."

They both laughed awkwardly.

"So, I guess this is goodbye for the both of us?" Pansy exhaled.

"No, not quite yet."

Draco conjured up two butterbeers.

Pansy giggled.

"What's this for?"

"Why can't two soon-to-be divorced mates share a last drink as a couple?"

They clinked their bottles together.

"So, have you found anyone who catches your fancy?" Pansy asked.

"Pardon?"

"Oh come now, Draco," Pansy probed. "I think _someone_ else caught your eye even during our marriage. It's quite impossible if you don't fancy..."

"Are you seriously..."

Pansy shrugged at his statement.

"Whatever you say, Draco."

Draco looked down at his left hand and opened it to see Hermione's locket.

Silence.

"I think so."

Pansy smiled approvingly as the future exes drank the last drop of Butterbeer. The moon was glinting as the clock near the outskirts of the Wizarding World chimed eleven times, signaling one more hour until midnight. Snow was falling slowly.

He had to go and save her.

He felt the warmth of the drink course through his skin, heating his body as a gentle gust of cold wind blew throughout the neighborhood.

_What's one more time?_


	25. Chapter 24: The Remembrall

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

**A/N: ishipdramoine, Pansy did not hear Draco's outburst 'cause she was waiting outside the gate. :-)**

** Thank you makesmewonderx3 for reviewing too! Ilu vv much.**

**The second longest chapter in the story, I think.  
**

A shadow marked its entrance onto the sand-covered surface of Tinworth, Cornwall. Although it was two weeks into winter, the beachy shores of the area was unaffected by the equinox. Footsteps were imprinted on the sediments and then washed away by the waters as the shadow continued to move towards the cottage cautiously, as if there was another shadow to follow if noise were to be made.

Draco Malfoy picked up speed as he rushed to the porch of the cottage excitedly. He jumped occasionally at the frothing sound of the waves rushing onto the shore. He smiled, remembering the night before. He almost had her at liplock. He wished Pansy had broken the marriage sooner so that he would be able to kiss Hermione Granger once and for all.

But being a Malfoy, he had a plan. He knew beggars couldn't be choosers and despite the fact that Voldemort will soon kill the both of them (Yes, the both of them. Originally, it was only supposed to be Hermione but since he defied the Malfoy way of living, Draco knew Lucius would not think twice about putting the junior Malfoy at the wanting hands of death), he knew what to do.

He had thought of the plan while walking to the cottage and as he climbed the rickety, wooden steps of the abode, he felt his stomach lurch with excitement. _Only a knock away from sweeping her off her feet_.

He knocked on the wooden door and waited for Hermione.

_Should I pull her to the beach and kiss her?_

No response.

Draco knocked on the door twice.

_Or should I kiss her then pull her to the beach?_

Although both scenarios made his heart pound with want, he couldn't help that rebellious tug at his gut.

He heard the soft pattering of footsteps from inside, signaling that she was descending down the stairs.

_What if Voldemort's hiding behind the trees? What if she dies before I can bring her to safety?_

His stomach tightened at the thought. He had already lost his chance to kiss her under the most beautiful star in the universe. He couldn't risk losing that chance again. He felt his veins itch with desire.

He heard the footsteps nearing the front door and he tapped his foot out of impatience and nervousness. _What was taking her so long?_

Draco blanched at the thought of his father already torturing Hermione to no end. He imagined the jeering voice of Lucius, screaming, "_Mudblood, Mudblood, Mudblood!" _

Sighing heavily as the sound of the footsteps moved elsewhere (_probably getting the keys,_ he thought. _Good job, Granger._), he finally reopened an unanswered question in his mind. Why was he associating himself with a mudblood?

Draco remembered the times when he would brush spots where Hermione accidentally made contact with and would shove her around because she was not of Wizard descent. His father married a pureblood, his grandfather married a pureblood, and the list goes on. He cringed at the thought of becoming the bastard head of house, handling a marriage with a Mudblood and half-blood son. Poor Abraxas would be turning in his grave!

_It's all Potter's fault_, he thought as he waited impatiently. If he hadn't asked his old nemesis to protect Hermione, none of this would have happened.

_But, Draco, why had you agreed? Potter had given you a choice._

Draco frowned at the gittish thought. _The rise of Voldemort was at hand and I was desperate to salvage what was left of my morale._

_What's the use, Draco? _His mind argued. _In a few hours, the Dark Lord will arrive and kill you both. I'm sure Potter could have handled the battle by himself without aid. You have cursed Katie Bell and tortured many others in your stay at Hogwarts. Why couldn't you at least Crucio Granger? She is a mudblood._

Draco could not respond. Yes, Draco, why couldn't he bring himself to kill her?

_But that is not in my resume._

_ Are you sure? You didn't think twice about hexing the Gryffindor Quidditch player._

_It was for my family—_

_ Wasn't killing Granger supposed to bring honor to your family? After all that you have been through? How shameful—_

He cut his mind off and closed his eyes. His mind was kind of a nosy little prick, but he couldn't help but admit those arguments were true.

_Why didn't you kill Granger, Draco? Why did you hesitate to bring honor to the Malfoy family? Why did you have to listen to Potter? Why did you stay with her? Why—_

_ Because I'm in lo—_

Draco's eyes widened as he cut the thought off. Merlin's beard, was he going to admit what he'd been denying for the past how many months? Was it really denial?

The door opened.

Draco's heart thrust itself into his throat as the world seemed to spin around. _Wait, pardon?_

Oh, right.

He just got punched square in the face by Hermione Granger.

"YOU BASTARD!"

Draco seemed to lose all control and he was to topple over but held onto the rickety railing of the porch.

"Is this a new way of greeting visitors?" Draco held his bruised cheek and glared at Hermione. "Update me on manners, will you? I'd really like to know if punching is the new hello!"

Hermione punched him again, this time her fist hit his other cheek.

"You've already greeted me hello!" Draco snapped, sarcasm flowing out of his mouth like word vomit. "I'm not a man who is fond of many greetings!"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" she said, clenching her fists at the side as she shook uncontrollably due to anger. "Or should I say murderer?"

"I'd prefer you call me _Draco_ because that's my name. _Murderer_ sounds so general, don't you think?"

"Will you stop with the nonsense? Stop acting like you don't know what murderer is, Malfoy! Or are you Malfoys too stupid to even _know_?"

"Between the two of us, Granger," Draco sneered as he gingerly soothed his cheeks. "If I were to handpick the babbling idiot, it'd be you! What in Merlin's beard are you talking about?"

Hermione fished an object out of the pocket of her jeans. She held the object in the palm of her hand.

"Remember the remembrall, Malfoy?"

Draco stiffened at the glowing orb and failed to respond.

"Cat got your tongue? Why don't you get it back and start explaining everything that happened nine years ago?"

"Why do I have to? It's not like I'm talking to the authorities," he replied coolly. "Granger, with your blood status, you are _hardly_ an authority."

Hermione gasped sharply.

"How dare you!" she exclaimed as she threw the remembrall at him. He ducked and narrowly missed getting smashed in the head. "Why did you come here? Did you plan on killing me off? Trying to redeem your cowardly self from nine years ago?"

"Oh, please, Granger," he rolled his eyes as he crossed his toned arms over his taut chest. "If I wanted to kill you, I'd say the magic phrase and you will be _done_."

"What's the point in coming here anyway? Voldemort's dead, Harry's dead, Ron's dead…"

Draco laughed snarkily.

"You stupid girl!" he exclaimed. "I cannot believe Hogwarts allowed you to be its top student! You cannot even get the facts straight. Voldemort's alive, Potter's alive, Weasley's alive. Don't you listen to the radio? Let alone read the news? Oh, right, bookworms hole up in books and never come out."

She slapped him.

"And how do I know that you're not lying? Did you come here to set me up? To bring me to him?"

"If you would just shut up, I would tell you."

"All right, go on! Tell me."

"I came here to _save_ you," he replied. "Now go on and bow down to me, smothering me with thank you kisses. Go on, Muggle, here's your chance."

"You're setting me up, you heartless murderer! Is this why you were living here? To know how and when to attack me?"

"Your brain is clearly underdeveloped," Draco replied icily. "I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU THAT I COULD KILL YOU WITH TWO WORDS! IS IT SO HARD FOR YOUR SODDING ROCK OF A MIND TO ABSORB SUCH STRAIGHTFORWARD INFORMATION?"

"You spineless coward!" she retorted. "Why couldn't you kill me? Oh, you cowardly snake, can't even kill an ickle mudblood."

Draco's temper rose.

"Don't you dare try me, Granger," he replied poisonously.

"Draco, if you don't kill the mudblood, your hair is grow a much greater length and your chest is going to inflate! You're going to turn into a girl just like the one you failed to kill!" Hermione jeered, imitating the voice of his father.

"Granger, I said shut up!"

"And you're going to fight over Harry Potter with Hermione Granger! Two girls versus boy wonder!"

"One more blow from you and I swear—"

"What, Malfoy? You can't out-argue me. You just can't accept the fact that Harry Potter saved me!"

"WHAT?"

"Are your ears devoid of hearing? Harry Potter saved me. He brought me to this cottage nine years ago!"

"SHUT UP, GRANGER. I'M WARNING YOU."

"And he tucked me into bed and cast protective spells over me to keep me safe but before all that, I held his hand—"

Draco's fists clenehed.

"STOP TRYING ME, I SWEAR—"

"He told me he'd protect me and then he'd kill Voldemort. And after telling me those things, he—"

Hermione wasn't able to continue because Draco's lips landed on hers. She was screaming inside her mouth but she was silenced as passion enveloped the both of them into one furious kiss. Hermione's knees weakened as Draco's hands firmly gripped her waist and her heartbeat quickened. She felt herself reluctantly kissing back as she involuntarily moved her arms slowly up his shoulders and encircled his neck. His lips slightly lifted from hers and they moved to her eyes as he gently kissed her eyelids and Hermione's breathing grew ragged.

He pulled away first and saw the surrendering body of Hermione gripped firmly on his two arms.

"—kissed me." Hermione managed to whisper hoarsely.

He let go of his grip and shoved Hermione to the side. He straightened himself up and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his polo. He glared at her and she watched him move towards the door.

"You can mock me, jeer me, insult me, call me names," he stated harshly. "But never, ever give someone else credit for something that _I_ did."

"What—"

"Yes, Granger," he admitted icily. "It was me. I saved you and kissed you and brought you here. I defied my father's rules for your safety."

"Wait, where are you—"

"Not that you care, Granger, seeing as you clearly loathed me the second you started accusing me before you even listened to what I was about to say," his voice started to crack. He couldn't take the pain anymore. "You ruined the night that was supposed to make me happy."

"What do you mean—"

Draco's back was turned and he gripped the cottage doorknob tightly.

"As I mentioned earlier, I don't think you'd care. Don't even bother looking for me and don't even bother screaming my name because you will never hear from me again," he closed his eyes as he attempted to level his voice as it shook with pent-up anger. "Pray Potter will eventually come around because you have to find yourself another savior. I'm done with _you_."

With that, he opened the door and slammed it behind him, leaving a gaping Hermione whose eyes turned glassy.

He knew that it was eleven in the evening and Voldemort was to kill him in an hour for betraying the pureblood beliefs the Dark Lord and his family imposed. He didn't care. He would die soon knowing that not only did he break his father's heart but also he had broken his _own_.

The wind grew colder and he felt his eyes sting with salty liquid. And for the first time in twenty-six years, Draco Malfoy didn't need the rain to know a tempest had come around. His stormy grey eyes told him that a report of heavy precipitation was on its way.

He ignored it and continued walking until he felt his legs grow numb with unexplainable numbness.

_Who gives a damn about mudblood Hermione Granger?_

He had left his future reality standing alone in a state of emotional and soon to be physical vulnerability. And as much as he tried to ignore the image of her flashing inside his mind, a part of him wished he were there to hold her and to tell her that he was going to protect her. He cursed his mind and his heart as the truth begged to unveil itself: Draco Malfoy still cared.

Hermione Granger sat on the arm of her armchair, gazing at the door. Minutes ago, she was in a heated argument with Draco and minutes after that argument, she lost herself in the most passionate of kisses with her enemy. Her _killer!_

She put her right hand on her chest and felt that her heart was beating faster than normal. What was she feeling? Adrenaline? Fear? _Love_?

_Impossible!_ She snapped. _Why should I put my heart on the line for someone who tried to kill me? AM I MAD? _

And yet, she couldn't answer the question her mind presented.

She found herself staring at the door with a longing desire, hoping that Draco would come back, take her by the waist, and kiss her by the fireplace. She always liked how the orange glow illuminated his face.

She rushed to the window and peeked through the curtains. She caught a glimpse of Draco walking towards the patch of palm trees near the mangrove area of the beach. He was covering himself with a black trenchcoat due to the sudden change in wind temperature. She gazed longingly at the way he held his trenchcoat tightly and wished he were holding _her_ tightly by the waist.

Her breath grew inconsistent as she remembered the feel of Draco's arm encircling her and his lips on her lips and her eyelids. Her chest felt heavy and her eyes welcomed tears as she remembered that he was still married to Pansy Parkinson. She walked over to the coat rack, removed Draco's trenchcoat, and wore it, inhaling his wood spice scent deeply.

She lay down on her couch and stared at the ceiling as she fought to return the next batch of tears that were threatening to fall. She realized that the one she wanted was probably farther than she expected and although, her legs wanted to run out, chase after him, and kiss him there and then on the sandy shores of Tinwood, she didn't bother.

What was the point in chasing a hopeless cause? She had to accept the fact that the one she wanted will never be able to love her back. She replayed the kiss in her mind several times as the fireplace crackled softly. All that will ever be left of a hypothetical relationship she wished to share with her former nemesis will only be built on memories. That's how far she can go.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts and getting up, she walked cautiously and her heart was beating wildly. _Had he come back? I'd be ready to forgive him._

She held the doorknob to calm herself down and turned it open.

She let out a little shriek of surprise and fear as the being she was hidden from for nine years had both feet planted on the porch floor, an inch away from her face.

"Ah, Hermione Granger," Voldemort whispered evilly.

Her heart was beating wildly but not because of Draco.

"Come to die."

She screamed as she saw Lucius Malfoy, Rowle, Dolohov, and Yaxley enter the house and then shoved her to the ground.

The door locked itself shut.

When one happens to pass by the peaceful shores of Tinwood, one would hear two things: the first being the idle thrashing of waves against the sand and the second coming from a girl screaming for her life as she was being attacked inside the cottage.


	26. Chapter 25: The Infiltration

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

"Harry?"

The trio appeared in a mangrove patch and the boy wonder ran towards the patch of palm trees.

"What are we doing here?"

Harry Potter did not answer. All he knew was that there was an evil that descended onto the home of Hermione Granger and he was determined to satisfy the thirst of that evil.

Sounds of shrieking pierced the peaceful night air. Harry could not stop running and he heard the footsteps of Ron and Ginny who were catching up, breathing haggardly.

"Harry! What and where are we going?"

"Don't you hear that shrieking?" Harry finally answered.

"Yes, and it's driving me crazy! I'm actually bloody scared! What if it's a banshee?"

"The only banshee I know is Hermione Granger because she screams super loud! She's being attacked by Death Eaters in her cottage!"

Ginny gasped.

"Harry! How do you know such a thing? Isn't she safe in Shell Cottage?"

"Her home's being infiltrated! Voldemort's back, remember?"

"But how could they have found her? Shell Cottage is an untraceable area, remember?"

"Someone told me. Someone told me that she was to be attacked at twelve midnight. We came just in time but I feel like the Death Eaters came a bit early."

"Death Eaters? And who told you this?"

Harry hesitated. He was sworn to secrecy by the source.

"That's not what important!" he snapped. "Our best friend's in danger and we're wasting time arguing and asking questions!"

"No, Harry, _you're_ wasting time!" Ginny snapped.

"What?"

"We could have Disapparated!"

Harry felt a blush as he looked at the knowing Weasley girl.

"Oh, right!" he blushed shamefully. "You're brilliant, Ginny."

Ginny fluttered her eyelashes.

"CAN WE STOP THE BLOODY ROMANCE FOR A WHILE AND DISAPPARATE ALREADY? I HAVE A FEELING THAT THE GENRE UNFOLDING IN SHELL COTTAGE WOULD SPELL OUT THE WORD TRAGEDY!"

Harry and Ginny broke their stares off and three _cracks_ were heard from the mangrove patch.

"Stop… please…" Hermione writhed in pain as her body succumbed to the curse Voldemort was imposing on her.

She was screaming in between fits of breathing. A large wound etched itself on her right leg. Her porcelain skin was covered in scratches and scrapes as the _Crucio_ was taking full throttle on the body of Hermione Granger.

"Giving up so soon, Mudblood?" Voldemort whispered dangerously in her ear. "Of course, I would expect that from ill-bred people like your lot."

Hermione wanted to cry and scream and hex at the same time. She wanted to scream because she was in so much pain, she wanted to hex the horcruxes out of the Dark Lord, and she wanted to cry because she knew she was left all alone by the one who could have saved her life.

"Where is Potter?" Voldemort murmured as he pointed his wand threateningly at her.

"I said…" she started crying hard. "I said, I don't know!"

"Lies! _Crucio!_"

Bursts of pain shot through Hermione's veins as she screamed and shrieked until her lungs and heart couldn't take the pain anymore.

Voldemort smiled sadistically at the Muggle suffering in front of him and he almost wished Nagini were there to eat her up. But he knew that was not going to be a reality. Harry Potter had already killed her.

He should have listened to his gut feeling about not making Nagini a horcrux. Now he felt lonelier than ever even with four Death Eaters loyally standing with him, standing guard to protect his well-being. He knew he wasn't going to live forever due to his six horcruxes being destroyed by Harry Potter.

"Well," Voldemort commented lazily. "I guess that's enough pain caused. Let's kill you off then."

Hermione managed to gasp despite the threat of internal pain.

"_Avada—"_

"_Bombarda!_"

Hermione saw and heard an explosion from the front door as she moved her body slowly to the left side of the coffee table. The Death Eaters were guarding the outside but due to the invasion of another party, it just showed how stupid they all were.

"Harry?" Hermione croaked.

Harry, busy battling with Rowle, turned to look at her. "Hermione?" he whispered. His distracted phase caused his back to hit against the wall of the dining room due to Rowle's spell. He struggled to get up.

Hermione felt helpless as she saw him battling three Death Eaters alone. She felt a little lightheaded due to her body weakening to the pain.

"Harry! Don't think you can fight this alone!" Hermione heard a female voice echo throughout the room.

"GINNY?" Hermione exclaimed as she saw her redheaded best friend.

"Not now, 'Mione, we're here to save you and Harry!"

"Why did you guys leave me behind?"

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed weakly as she saw a blurred image of her best friend come in to the house.

"'Mione?" Ron replied excitedly. "Is that you?"

Hermione must have suffered a lot because all she saw were blurred lights, backs hitting against walls, and miniature explosions. She felt her head fall down onto the floor and her eyelids growing heavy. She felt a slight case of dizziness and nausea as she fought to stay awake.

_Wake up!_

She heard a voice but couldn't quite place who it was.

_Hang in there. You won't die._

"Who are you?" she muttered in slurred words.

She then felt a warm hand on her bruised arm and Hermione's head started to spin.

"It doesn't matter. Just remember that you won't die."

"And how…" she breathed in raggedly. "How would you know?"

"…protect…"

"What?" Hermione's voice grew softer as feelings of faint were taking over.

"…be okay…"

"Wha…" her words were slurring.

"…you…Potter… her… away…"

And those were the last four words Hermione heard before she lost consciousness.


	27. Chapter 26: Harry's Story

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

**A/N: Thank you TraffikJamz and ImOnMars for reviewing! x ilu vv much. here's a chapter for you guys. :-)**

**ImOnMars, you are the sweetest! tyty. :-) got my confidence up haha.  
**

"This is definitely _not_ St. Mungo's," Harry murmured as he entered a tall, white-painted building in the middle of Shaw Street. He clutched the white paper that held the directions and room number of the one he was supposed to visit in his good hand and weakly swung his bandanged arm. The white-washed structure looked normal to Muggle eyes and too ordinary to even get a comment or an eyebrow raise from a passer-by. But when you enter the area, you will find that it is actually one of the most exclusive hospitals in the Wizarding World. Saint Mungo's is not really for the rich but for the masses.

It was Harry's first time to walk into such a place. To his left, he saw gold-embossed healing water fountains that sprouted herb-flavored water that healed simple wounds and lessened the size and pain of deep gashes. To his right, he saw the most comfortable black velvet cushion chairs that seated the most recognized and most elite wounded Wizards and Witches of all time. He had wanted to get their autographs due to him being starstruck, but he let it slide. There was nothing worse than getting a Wizard or Witch irked for trying to get an autograph in their _au natural_ state without looking spiffy.

Harry tore his awed gaze to the front desk straight ahead and met a blonde receptionist who flicks her wand ever too quickly to pull a Rita Skeeter (Quick Quotes) and scribbles the names of the hurt on the never-ending parchment of records. He gently tapped the bell and she, without looking up, guessed his name correctly.

"Potter, Harry James?" she asked.

"Yes, madam, I was wondering if…"

"Granger, Hermione Jean is here? Yes, Room 406. Please take the lift to your right, thank you very much and have a healthy day."

Harry nodded awkwardly and walked to the lift waiting area. He recognized most of the visitors that got on and off the lift but did not bother to say hello. He just wanted to see Hermione and determine her state. She was really in bad shape when Lucius and Greyback tried to kill her but instead gave her a deep gash on her stomach. Harry grimaced at the image pasted in his mind and also felt regretted not doing much to help her.

He got on the lift (shoved actually) and held onto the silver steel bars for safety since he knew lifts like this figuratively tore his limbs apart. While waiting for his turn, he got some congratulations from the elite Wizards and Witches for defeating the Dark Lord and his minions and he actually smiled. He actually owned the victory but yet humbly shook the hands of the eager lot.

"Good job, Harry Potter! Muggles and wizards can mingle like brothers and sisters!" Denise Kirk, an esteemed reporter for _Witch Weekly_, patted him on the shoulder.

"Cheers to Harry Potter!" Elias Murdoch, a famed Gringotts banker, clapped his hands wildly.

"We are with the savior! What do you have to say to your fans out there?" Horace Burgeon, a media spokesperson for _The Daily Prophet_, poked madly at his cameraman as he struggled with his words. "Get a picture, Gatsby! Hurry!"

_Ping. _

"Fourth floor, Physical Therapy and Herb Studies."

"Well, I get off here now," Harry voiced. "Thank you all for your time."

The famous wizards and witches waved back eagerly as Harry sped off to Room 406. He passed by weeping warlocks and screaming banshees as different healers wheeled them to different rooms. Harry crossed his fingers and hoped that what happened to Hermione was nothing serious. He retrieved the Chocolate Frog box that Ginny had sent along with two bottles of Butterbeer that Ron chipped in from his pocket (yes, he did learn that bag charm from Hermione) and found himself at Room 406. He breathed in deeply as he knocked twice on the wooden door that led him to Hermione's resting area. As he stared at the gifts that he and his friends brought for her, he knew that he had something more to give and it was not more Butterbeer or firewhiskey, but he knew that he should have brought her firewhiskey just in case she couldn't absorb the other _gift_ he would give her.

"Harry James Potter?" a brunette healer named Janice answered the door.

"Yes, is Hermione in there?" he asked. "May I see her?"

Janice smiled and nodded.

"Yes, of course," she replied. "As a matter of fact, she was expecting you."

"Great." He smiled politely at the lady.

She welcomed him in and led him to a medium-sized oak armchair with silk cushions where he sat in and got a good view of the patient. Hermione Granger was sleeping peacefully in her king-size master's bed that had a hard mattress but was covered with a velvet comforter and silk pillows where she laid her head in along with two pillows at her sides. Her stomach was healing and he saw that the gash that he had seen before she was brought here lessened in size. He breathed a sigh of relief and Hermione stirred. Her eyes fluttered open and widened them after seeing her best friend in front of her.

"HARRY!" she screamed.

"Hush, Miss Granger," Janice whispered soothingly. "Your gash may have lessened in size but it has not disappeared completely. You do not want to irritate your gash anymore."

"But, Janice!" she exclaimed. "This is Harry James Potter, my best friend in the entire world! I would gladly gash up again if it means seeing him!"

"You wouldn't dare, would you?" Janice replied.

Hermione thought about what she had said and shook her head sheepishly.

"Okay, I wouldn't go that far," she thought. "Sorry, Harry."

Harry laughed at the exchange between his best friend and her healer.

"No problem," he replied as he turned to Janice. "Janice, may I catch up with my best friend for a while? It won't take long, I promise."

"All right," Janice said. "One hour and thirty minutes is all I'm giving, then off you go."

He nodded obediently.

Janice got her things and walked to the door. She turned the knob and exited but poked her head out of the doorframe. "Thanks for restoring the peace in the Wizarding World. Now Muggles and Wizards can cavort once again. Cheers!"

Harry chuckled modestly as Janice shut the door behind her.

He then turned his attention to Hermione.

"So, how are you feeling?" he asked. "I'm glad you're awake."

"Great, actually," she replied. "My gash doesn't hurt anymore."

"That's fantastic. I was actually worried about you but the coma did wonders for your recovery. You look really well."

She smiled. "That's so sweet of you."

Pause.

"How have you been living with all the press releases under your nose? Voldemort's finally dead!" Hermione broke the silence.

"Still overwhelmed. It's such a surreal feeling." Harry imitated the usual answers celebrity witches give to tabloids.

"Oh bug off."

"Seriously, though. I'm glad everything's over but I couldn't have done it without Ginny and Ron."

"Ugh, I hate it."

"What, Hermione?"

"Well, I'm just jealous that I didn't contribute a thing to Voldemort's death."

"What's your point?"

"I'm the brightest witch Hogwarts got, Harry."

Harry smirked.

"Wounded with a stomach gash and newly recovered from a coma and you're still cocky. You must be feeling more than all right." He teased.

"Sod off!"

They laughed together.

"I mean," Hermione uttered. "You guys have taken care of me after the War, specifically after that fainting spell."

Harry inhaled deeply.

"And you brought me here. I never knew you three could afford to put me in such a facility. I mean, let alone Ron, no offense…"

"Hermione, we didn't bring you here." Harry blurted.

"What?"

"Yeah we didn't."

"Oh, Harry, don't be silly. Do you expect a helpless case like me (at the time, take note of that) to walk to this place half-dead and fork over all my savings just to get a one night's stay here? The only person who could afford this place is Draco Malfoy."

"Hermione, that's kind of what I was about to tell you."

"What? Draco Malfoy brought me here? That's quite silly!" she laughed, waiting for Harry to join in.

But he didn't.

"Wait," Hermione's face grew grave. "You're actually serious about this? He brought me here? Why? He hates me! He hates mudbloods!"

"Before you start assuming," he cut in. "You have to hear the entire story. You fainted real fast and you weren't able to see the whole picture."

With Hermione listening intently and yet disbelievingly at the same time, Harry began to tell the story of The Infiltration.

_"Avada—"_

_ "Bombarda!"_

_ The door exploded as Harry entered the now damaged entrance of Shell Cottage. Sorry, Bill. Rowle immediately struck him with a spell and skilled Harry Potter was able to dodge it._

_ "Harry?" he heard Hermione croak._

_ Harry, busy battling with Rowle, turned to look at her. "Hermione?" he whispered. His distracted phase caused his back to hit against the wall of the dining room due to Rowle's spell. He struggled to get up._

_ "Harry! Don't think you can fight this alone!" Harry heard a female voice echo throughout the room._

_ "GINNY?" he heard Hermione exclaim as he saw the beautiful Weasley sister enter the cottage._

_ "Not now, 'Mione, we're here to save you and Harry!"_

_ "Why did you guys leave me behind?" _

_ "Ron!" Hermione exclaimed weakly._

_ "'Mione?" Ron replied excitedly. "Is that you?"_

_ "Weasley," Harry heard someone mutter. "We meet again, blood traitor."_

_ Harry's hairs stood up as he saw Lucius Malfoy brandishing his wand in front of Ron. It was emitting a green ball of light._

_ "Expelliarmus!" Harry boomed promptly._

_ Lucius' wand flew out of his hand and his body hit the wall and he fell, immediately unconscious._

_ Ron high-fived Harry and was about to duel Rowle when a recovered Lucius grabbed him by the shoulder and flung him strongly to a wall. He got his wand that Harry dropped carelessly on the floor and proceeded to finish Ron off._

_ "YOU INSOLENT ANIMAL!" Lucius screamed as he towered over a cowering Ron. "HOW DARE YOU TREAT A FELLOW PUREBLOOD LIKE THAT? DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?" _

_ "YEAH I DO!" Ron retorted. "YOU ARE A SCHEMING OLD CRACKPOT WHO DOES NOT SEEM TO KNOW WHAT LOYALTY MEANS!"_

_ "HOW DARE YOU!" Lucius exploded as he leveled his wand at Ron's chest. "CRU—"_

_ "PROTEGO!" someone exclaimed as the curse rebounded to Lucius. Pain coursed every vein in Lucius' body as he fell helpless on the ground, succumbing to the torture._

_ "MALFOY?" Harry exclaimed._

_ "MALFOY?" Ron repeated as he struggled to get up._

_ "DRACO?" Voldemort, Rowle, and Dolohov gasped._

_ "Draco?" his father croaked._

_ "What are you—"_

_ "What is that git doing here?" Ron screamed._

_ "And hello to you too, Weasley," Draco replied coldly. "Where's Granger?"_

_ "WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH HER?" he screamed. "ARE YOU GOING TO CRUCIO HER? SHE'S ALREADY IN PAIN, MALFOY. SHE DOESN'T NEED—"_

_ "Do you think I'm stupid? Why would I kill her?" _

_ "Well, you've obviously come down here to pull a Lucius and torture her to no end!" he accused._

_ "If you think that I'm going to kill her on the spot in front of your face, THAT WOULD BE DOWNRIGHT STUPID. First, why would I kill her if I spared your life? Second, why would I rebound the curse towards my father? And third, why am I bothering myself with explaining what I'm doing here to a stupid prick like you? We have no time, where is she?"_

_ Ron was busy absorbing Malfoy's words._

_ "Oh, too busy trying to absorb the wise words?"_

_ "NO! I'm just—"_

_ "Whatever, Weasley! Just tell me where she is."_

_ Ron scowled at him._

_ "As if I'm going to squeal. A bastard like you would…"_

_ "Malfoy, she's over there." Harry replied, exasperated._

_ Ron's head snappily turned to face Harry's emerald-green eyes._

_ "Are you bloody mad?" Ron cried. "Malfoy's going to…"_

_ "No, he won't, Ron," Harry sighed frustratingly. "He's not going to do that."_

_ "And how would you know?" Ron questioned suspisciously._

_ "I trust him."_

_ "Oh," Ron pouted. "I haven't seen you for nine years and when I finally see you, you've replaced my spot in our gang with Malfoy. Thanks a lot!"_

_ Harry said he'd explain soon and got back to battling Voldemort. Their wands met a third time and this time, unlike before, his wand was winning. Voldemort's was also fighting back but Harry felt that the Dark Lord's was dying. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco feebly touching Hermione's face with his hand._

_ "Hang in there," Draco whispered._

_ Hermione's eyes were weak._

_ "You won't die."_

_ "Who are you?"_

_ He heard Draco sigh deeply._

_ "It doesn't matter. Just remember you won't die."_

_ His hand moved from her face to her shoulder and he felt her body warm up at the touch of his palm._

_ "AVADA KEDAVRA!" Voldemort broke off from the meet and aimed the curse at Harry._

_ Draco saw the curse reach Harry and gasped a little as it rebounded to Voldemort._

_ Harry Potter had killed Voldemort but sacrificed…_

_ Oh wait, why was Potter getting up?_

_ "Potter!" he exclaimed. "You're alive!"_

_ "Y-yeah…" Harry muttered shakily in reply. "It's part of the prophecy."_

_ "What prophecy?"_

_ "I'll tell you later right after I handle these other Death Eaters."_

_ Harry body-binded the three Death Eaters and made them disappear to Azkaban where they will be serving life sentences._

_ Draco watched sadly as his father was sent to Azkaban. Harry saw Draco's face and walked over to him, with Ron and Ginny lying down on the ground exhausted and unconscious from the after-effects of the duels._

_ "I'm sorry I had to do that…"_

_ "It's okay," Draco narrowed his eyes. "He deserved it, that prick."_

_ "Is Hermione okay?"_

_ "I don't know." His voice cracked all of a sudden._

_ "What's wrong, Malfoy?"_

_ He showed him Hermione's stomach gash. They tried to wake Hermione several times but she wouldn't budge. She was more than unconscious._

_ "Oh bloody sweet Merlin!" Harry gasped. "We must bring her to Saint Mungo's, quick! It looks fatal—"_

_ "No, I won't bring her there," Draco interjected. "I'm bringing her to Saint Jean Pierre's."_

_ "Wait, what?" Harry asked shockingly. "But that's one of the most exclusive facilities—"_

_ "Tut, tut, Potter," Draco clucked. "Have you forgotten my immense wealth?"_

_ "Oh, right," Harry shook his head. "You want me to come with?"_

_ "Yeah, sure. What about these two?"_

_ Draco pointed to Ron and Ginny._

_ "Oh, piss it," Draco replied to himself. "I'll check them in too."_

_ Harry zapped them to Saint Jean Pierre's while he looked on at Draco's case. Harry saw how careful Draco carried her and how he slowly brushed the hair off her face. It got him thinking, was Malfoy falling in love with the Mudblood?_

_ He had seen the signs from the second encounter they had a few months back when they talked about Hermione while sharing lemon drops but he doubted it. But right now, as he looked at Draco caring about where Hermione should stay and caring about her stomach gash got him thinking otherwise._

_ "It's okay, Granger," Draco whispered into her ear as he carried her up gently. His knees shook and his heart felt heavy. "Potter's with me and we'll bring you to Saint Jean Pierre's. You'll be okay."_

_ Harry could have sworn that he saw tears forming in Draco's grey eyes. He kept silent about it knowing there will be a hex on the way if he ever said that aloud. He also saw how Draco gazed at an unconscious Hermione and whispering "You'll be okay" at least a hundred times before they Disapparated._

"He-he rescued me?" Hermione asked disbelievingly. "That's preposterous!"

"At first I thought it was, but seeing how he looked at you," Harry paused. "I started to doubt my former thought."

"I don't believe you, Harry," she said softly as she slowly sat up. She winced in pain due to the gash but stayed in that position as she gazed out the window.

"Believe what you want, 'Mione," Harry got up from the armchair as Janice returned to escort him out. "I'm just telling you what I saw. And believe me, it was so unlike him to do such things for you."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Harry." Hermione replied.

"Well, have a good rest."

Harry bid her goodbye and left the packages on her bed.

"What are these?" she turned her gaze to the gifts on her bad.

"Oh, some gifts from Ron and Gin. They checked out two days ago."

"How are they by the way?"

Harry smiled at the thought of Ginny.

"She's lovely."

"I meant _they_, Harry."

"Oh," Harry felt a blush creeping. "Right. They're both fine."

As Harry left, Hermione returned back to gazing at the window. She felt tears forming in her eyes and tried to hold them but they fell, defying her wish for them to return. As she saw passers-by walk past the hospital area, she wished that a certain platinum blonde man would pass by the place and walk into the entrance to see her. She inhaled deeply, wiped her tears away, and slept, involuntarily touching her lips, where his had been two nights ago.


	28. Chapter 27: The Rose

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

**A/N: Even if I have only a small number of reviews, I am so touched with the number of hits! 2700+! plus this story was favored by 6 people and story alerted by another 6 or 7. :-) TYTYTY ILU GUYS  
**

Draco Malfoy was not quite himself these past few days.

Well, physically, he still dressed appropriately: his black blazer, signature white polo, black slacks, and black shoes. He managed to wear the Marvolo Gaunt ring on his right ring finger and his wedding band thrown in the nearest receptacle immediately after his separation with Pansy. But something was wrong with his appearance: he looked haggard, his hair was a mess, his eyes were red and dry, and he was paler than usual.

"Why am I so upset?" he asked himself for the nth time that day. The sun was out, winter was over, and spring was back in the game. Flowers were blooming, birds were chirping, and Draco was the only sourpuss that existed as he moped under an oak tree. He closed his eyes as he tried to get some sleep in the quietest area the park had to offer. It had been a good week since he had gotten great sleep. But he couldn't.

He numbered the events that had transpired on his fingers as flashbacks appeared in front of his eyes.

_Voldemort died. No, of course I should not be upset!_

_Death Eaters are gone. No, that's not it._

He thought about his father Lucius and he finally had his answer. His hands numbed at the thought of his betrayal towards his family. He knew he was getting too emotional and it was not like him to moan and groan over some issues he never got to settle with his dad, but just for once he wanted his father's recognition to last even just for a little while longer. And now he was in Azkaban, and Draco knew fully well that the recognition from his dad would never come.

He slammed his fist down towards the grass in frustration and calmed his throbbing temple. He was feeling some sort of rage and regret at the thought of his betrayal. And who caused it? _Hermione Granger._ Yes, she caused this whole mess. If it weren't for that mudblood, he would have gotten through the whole thing in time, if it weren't for her bleeding stomach and coma…

"Bleeding stomach! Coma!" Draco felt a sharp pain in his abdomen as he thought of Hermione probably suffering unconsciously in Saint Jean Pierre's. He knew that he shouldn't be worried but he was not qualming over her pain, he was qualming because she was suffering through it _alone_. His heart clenched at the thought of her slowly dying and he suddenly felt his eyes prick. He gasped in shock at the thought of him crying over a _girl_. He bent his neck backwards in an attempt to return the tears but instead irritated his insomniac eyes.

It wasn't in his blood to cry over a girl, let alone a _mudblood_. Oh, Merlin, what would Father think of him? Lucius would have certainly beat Voldemort to the pulp to kill his son for such a bastardious thought.

He got up and dismissed his original plan to even try to stop by and see her. What was the use? She was the reason why his family was torn apart. She was the reason why he didn't fuss about Pansy's affair with Blaise. She was the reason why he gave up every pureblood belief he was raised to believe in. She was the _reason_.

"AAAAAAAAAAA!" his head started spinning from the battling thoughts inside his mind and from nausea due to his plagued rest. He started lumbering weakly through a garden and focused his eyes on a rose.

_So, what if it was a rose? _He thought to himself. _Why am I staring at it? What significance—_

And his train of thought stopped for a minute. His mind rewound to the time when he brought Hermione to Shaw Street Gardens a week back. His heart was heavy as he remembered the way she whispered into his ear,

_"I love this shade of rose," she smiled shyly. "It's not too dark, it's too light…"_

"It's the perfect hue." He finished her quip as he held the rose gently between his index finger and middle finger. A cool breeze blew his way and he caught a whiff of the rose's scent. The divine smell intoxicated his nostrils and the already heavy heart he had was on its way to sinking down all the way to his stomach, adding to the already present guilt pain he had carried. The rose smelled so sweet even in the first few weeks of Spring. The rose was actually impossible to find because the shade would usually appear as the season progresses. But he was holding that perfect rose in the first few weeks, was that a sign?

He shook his head and walked away. "Forget it."

As he was a bit far away from the garden, he heard a little girl gasp innocently. "Mother!" he heard the girl squeal with delight. "Look! Look at this rose!"

Draco stopped walking and turned on his right heel. A little girl was touching the rose he held a few minutes ago. His rose! He scanned the entire garden from behind a tree and found that there was no existing perfect rose. He forced himself to turn around and continue walking out to the exit of the garden when he found himself thinking.

Was it worth going back there to argue with a little pipsqueak over a stupid rose? Was it worth embarrassing himself in front of an innocent mother?

_Pluck _goes the sound of the picked flower.

He had his answer.

Hermione Granger's mind was on replay today. She didn't know what vibes she got from rewinding back to good memories but she liked the feeling she got from the mere concept of _going back_. It seemed comforting to stick to memories because somehow living in the present did not really conform to her liking. She hated how things turned out after that fight she had with Draco. Her friends Ron and Ginny had not yet come to visit, Harry hadn't visited after his first time last week, and Draco hadn't come by to visit. That didn't make sense. After all, he _saved _her? Does he do things like that to the people he saves? Does he even save people? Should she not care that he hadn't come by? Did the events that transpired before the Infiltration mean nothing to him?

Hermione shut her eyes and took the sleeping draught that Janice had prepared for her. She had requested it specifically to get some rest, but she knew it was more than that.

You see history may be great for reminiscing, but again your mind chooses what you see not your heart. And the image of Draco's handsome face constantly flashed in the black empty space of Hermione's shut eyes.

The door creaked as Draco entered Hermione Granger's room. He shut the door gently behind him and walked over to the right side of her bed. His chest tightened at the sight of a peacefully sleeping Hermione and he wished he didn't even have to pick a fight with her. He wished he could have saved her sooner. Was he too late?

He inhaled sharply and a voice echoed quietly throughout the quarters. "Mr. Malfoy?"

"Oh," he exhaled as he turned around. "Hello, Janice. How's she doing?"

"She's recovering from the gash," she smiled. "And about the co—"

Draco smiled a tight-lipped smile and asked, "Could you step outside for a minute? I just want to have a bit of privacy with the patient."

Janice nodded.

"Of course, sir," the healer responded. "I'll be on the second floor if you need me."

"Sir, there's something you should know…"

"Janice, it can wait until later, right?"

"I guess so."

"Then please I need a moment with the patient. I haven't gotten a wink of sleep in a week and I would really appreciate it if you don't defy my word."

"That explains the bedhead and the mussed up clothing." She muttered.

"What?"

Janice reddened.

"Oh, nothing, sir. As I said, I'll be on the second floor with whatever I have to tell you after your moment."

"Thank you."

The door creaked slightly as Janice closed it behind her.

"Oh, Janice?"

"Yes, sir?" Janice's head poked from the doorframe.

"How many people have visited her?"

"You're the second one so far, sir."

Draco nodded.

"Who was the first?"

"It was Mr. Potter."

"Of course." He muttered softly.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Never you mind. Go on now. Thank you again."

"Anytime, sir."

The door finally shut behind him.

Once they were alone, a million thoughts filled Draco's head. _What was he supposed to say? Will she be able to see the light of day? To see her best friends? To see him? To be able to be well enough to marry him? What about having kids?_

Hold your horses, Captain. _Marriage? Children? _He was talking about a Mudblood!

But he gazed at her and he knew that if she got up and found out he had passed by, she would be too irked up and raging to have the strength to make her eyes stay open for longer than an hour.

He knew that in order for her to wake up, he had to leave her alone. He knew it was going to be hard (oh, damn all these bipolar thoughts of mine!) but he also thought it was the right thing to do.

He carefully sat on the edge of her bed, parallel to her hands and he gently stroked her right cheek with his middle finger. His eyes turned glassy as his finger moved down to her lips and he again longed for the nth time to kiss her before he left her for good.

He then got up from the bed and he said in the most gentle voice, "It's Spring again."

Hermione responded with slow, tranquil breathing.

"And I know what you love most about Spring. You told me on our date. You loved the butterflies, you loved the dewy grass at dawn, and you loved flowers. I myself think that Spring is such a prissy season—"

He paused.

"I have got to remember that I'm not here to talk about myself. I'm here to talk about you."

He inhaled sharply again.

"I know that we've been sworn enemies for so long and it took us nine long years to reconcile. But a week ago, a fight brought us apart again and it caused you your demise. And for that, I blame myself fully. Sometimes, I wish I could have killed you instead of bringing you into the nastiest world my father had created. Sadly, it had become my life for so long. He was controlling and abusive yet I wanted his approval so badly because he was top on Voldemort's list. He had power and recognition, and yes, unbelievably, it's hard to get Lucius Malfoy's approval even if you're his son."

He checked to see if Hermione, by any chance, was stirring. She wasn't.

"I know that I have been made to believe that muggles aren't supposed to mingle with purebloods," he continued as he paced the room nervously. "And I had to prove such was true with me by trying to kill you. At first, I thought it was easy because I was raised to believe such a way but when it got to the real thing, I couldn't help but cower at the last minute. It's so Un-Slytherin-like, you know. And in the end, I brought you to Shell Cottage where you lived a peaceful life until I had to drop by and irk you more with my cockiness. If it weren't for me, you would have still lived normally without Voldemort bothering you since he thought you were already dead."

He checked for the second time to see if Hermione stirred. But her breathing was the only thing conscious around him.

"But that's the thing. If I hadn't bothered you, I would have stayed in Malfoy Manor chained to Pansy Parkinson my whole life. While it was easy to maintain a flirtatious broad such as her, I knew that I didn't want to be stuck in a loveless marriage because I not only thought of _my_ well-being but also Scorpius' well-being."

He breathed in deeply for the second time. The core point of his speech was coming up.

"I do have one thing to confess: Potter made me rescue you. Unbelievable, isn't it? Not really because I hid you off in some cottage, please, anyone can do that. But the nutty thing there was my _actually_ agreeing to save you. Well, so many unbelievable things happen to all of us at certain points in our lives. First, I never got to know that Potter was actually a smart chap. Second, Weasley cares for you a lot. Well, that doesn't surprise me. Ever since I've spent a whole lot of time with you, I've gotten to know that you were more than just a shallow bookworm (no offense). You are the feistiest, most amazing girl I have ever known and even if you are a mudblood, you're actually something special. And that's saying something, coming from me."

He laughed softly.

"But you don't deserve someone like me," he sighed heavily. "I mean, assuming that you've felt something these past few weeks. I mean, the fight and Pansy and everything, well, in short, my tumultuous life, I knew that you didn't deserve such a complicated family name. You deserve someone great like Potter or Weasley. They've got the right girl if ever one of them ends up with you. You were the only one who changed my way of living, my way of thinking, and _me_ in general."

His voice was starting to crack.

"Today, I was walking around Shaw Street Gardens and I saw the most beautiful rose. I knew you wanted something like that. You told me during our date but you knew that you couldn't get such a flower because it'd be out during the second week of Spring. Well, amazingly, it's the first week and already I found the flower. I know you won't be pleased with what I did because I wasn't pleased myself. I had started to question my beliefs and in the end, I had forgotten to answer the most core question Potter had asked me months ago."

He paused shakily.

"I had ignored that question for so long because I never knew what to answer. But today, as I saw the rose, I had finally found my answer."

He laid the rose gently on the sidetable next to Hermione's bed.

"I fought over this little rose with a nine-year old girl. I knew I couldn't save face and the mother was threatening to call the authorities or whatever you Muggles called it and I was about to go to prison. But the mere fact that I was risking my life for you out there, even as measly as taking a rose from a girl, I knew right then and there that you were _worth_ saving."

And he looked at her longingly.

"I know that I have not wanted to admit this and I have kept denying this for over nine months but I think I've started to fall in love with you."

His eyes gently closed as he absorbed the admission. _He had finally surrendered to his heart._

"But I can't keep you like this. You're in pain, you're in total misery… I know this hurts me so much but I have to… to let you go."

"Your happiness means the world to me and if it has to involve you not getting with a Malfoy, then by all means, I will make the sacrifice. Why? Because you are _worth_ my pain."

He walked away, his eyes heavy with potential tears. He waved his wand and was about to _Obliviate_ her mind, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. He knew that deep inside he wanted to set her free from the bondage of Draco Malfoy but he couldn't help his heart. Nothing was worse than having to know that the one you love has forgotten you existed. No amount of butterbeer and firewhiskey could cure such a heartbreak.

He opened the door and Janice was outside, tears streaming down her face.

"You heard it all?" Draco questioned.

"I'm so sorry, Sir," she apologized immediately. "But those were the most beautiful words…"

"Save it," Draco shut his eyes. "Just promise me you'll take great care of her and notify me always on her progress."

"Will do, sir."She sniffled as she wiped her tears on her cloth napkin.

"And one more thing." He said before he turned around on his heel.

"What is it, sir?"

"Don't ever mention that I was here. Don't tell her I came by. Nothing."

"May I ask why?"

Draco sighed.

"I just needed to."

Janice nodded solemnly as she entered the room.

Draco walked to the lift, rode it, and exited through the first floor.

He turned towards the white building and locked eyes with Hermione's room window for one last time.

He turned on his heel and walked away.

All the way up in Hermione's room, a gasp was uttered. Hermione's eyes fluttered open and she stood upright.

"Ow." She winced as her gash pained up.

She turned around and saw no one and she knew it was just a dream. She laid her head on the pillow and shut her eyes again, not noticing the rose on her sidetable where Draco's hand had rested for real.


	29. Chapter 28: The Weasleys' Visit

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

**A/N: This is the third to the last chapter guys! I hope I satisfied your thirst to know more. :-) Thank you reviewers, viewers (the hits), the favoring ones, and the readers! x luv u all.  
**

"MIONE!" Ginny screamed as she embraced her best friend.

"Careful, Gin," she chuckled. "My stomach still hurts and I'm a bit dizzy from the coma."

"Oh, right, sorry." Ginny recoiled as she took a seat in one of the silk-covered armchairs in the room.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Ron grimaced as he saw a part of Hermione's gash being exposed. "Close it, will you? It's bloody disgusting."

"Thank you for your honesty, Ron," Hermione replied sharply. "But I am glad to see you and Ginny again."

"Aw, 'Mione, we've missed you, really," Ron said. "I mean, come on, we thought you were dead!"

"And things weren't the same when you weren't around. Places were much quieter and people seemed much more silent." Ginny chimed in.

"Oh, thank you for your honesty too, Gin."

"I know it isn't right for me to say this and I hate to have to admit it but I'm glad Malfoy had a last minute change of heart to rescue you nine years ago."

Hermione's heart sank and suddenly her gash smarted.

"Well, he should have. He was such a sissy towards his father. He couldn't even defy his father's orders. That was a start." Hermione blurted.

"Hermione Jean!" Ginny gasped. "What a vile thing to say."

"It's true!" Hermione insisted.

"I actually agree with Gin on this one, disgusting as it may sound," Ron made a face. "But you have got to show some sort of appreciation for the git. He saved you."

"What's there to say?" Hermione snapped. "He hasn't exactly made some sort of decision to _see_ me or anything."

"But 'Mione, he brought you here."

"And so? Why did he have to do such a chivalrous thing? It's not like I forced him to do it!"

"We were not talking about chivalry—"

"Mind you, Weasley siblings," she interjected, obviously still in heat from bitterness. "Those were not the only things that he did for me. He gave me his trenchcoat when I was cold, he stayed with me when Pansy was away for a business trip, and he brought me out on a date that mimicked that of his parents' and he tried to kiss me!"

Ginny's eyes widened and Ron's fists clenched.

"Wait, he tried to kiss you?" he stood up from his armchair and suddenly his eyes flickered with slight rage.

"Yes, he did try to kiss me!" she replied. "And he was married!"

"But you didn't kiss him back, I presume?" Ginny asked.

"No." Hermione replied softly.

"I mean, you're quite moral when it comes to these things, right?" Ron chimed in as he sat back down.

"Yes." Hermione nodded her head slowly, as if she were guilty of something.

"Great job, Hermione!" Ginny clapped. "You triumphed bad—"

"Wait, I just have to ask one more question." Ron cut in.

"Go ahead." Hermione relented, crossing her fingers just in case the dreaded question came up.

"You didn't _want_ to kiss him, did you?"

Hermione reddened.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley!" she fumed. "What would make you think such a thing?"

"Well," he stood up and neared her until his nose touched her nose. "When you answered Ginny's questions, your monosyllabic answers had no conviction in them."

"And so?" Hermione replied. "I'm sorry if my strength were all used up on my furious tone of voice!"

"But you talked about chivalry. And we know Malfoy isn't chivalrous…"

"He isn't! Did I say chivalrous?" Hermione asked nervously.

"…unless you're hiding something from us." Ron narrowed his eyes.

Hermione's throat locked. She couldn't tell him about what happened hours before the Infiltration happened. She didn't need any more pain right now. And they can't know that!

"What are you talking about?" Hermione lied.

"Stop _trying_ to lie, Hermione," Ron replied briskly. "We all know you're quite the bad liar."

"How dare you, you prick!" Hermione gingerly grabbed a pillow and threw it at Ron.

"Throw as many pillows as you want, Hermione," Ron said. "But the truth will shove you harder in the arse than this pillow did my face."

He held up the pillow and waved it around with his hand.

"All right, all right!" Hermione surrendered as she buried her face shamefully into her hands.

Ron grinned triumphantly.

"Oh, Merlin, I feel so embarrassed," Hermione sighed as she felt tears prickling her eyes. "Promise me you won't judge."

"Come now, Hermione," Ginny nodded understandingly. "We're your best friends. Whatever wrong you did, we'd forgive you as long as you were remorseful about it."

"But that's the bad thing!" she exclaimed. "I wasn't remorseful at all."

Ron gasped.

"Did you kill someone?"

"No!"

"Did you use _Crucio _or _Imperio_ on innocent beings?"

"NO!"

"Then what is it?"

Hermione sighed as she struggled to answer with Ginny's questions.

"Hours before the Infiltration happened, I had a remembrall in hand. It ws strange because it had slivers of memories inside it and I wondered what it was doing in Malfoy's trenchcoat…"

"Malfoy's trenchcoat?" Ron asked. "Oh, Merlin, did you sleep with him too?"

"You arse, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione reddened and shuddered at the thought. "No! He lent me his coat."

"How'd you get his coat?" Ginny asked, curious.

"He lived with me days before the Infiltration…"

"WHAT?" the Weasley siblings gasped.

"But that's beside the point!" Hermione pleaded.

"Are you his mistress?" Ginny asked.

"No! NO! NO! Just shut up and listen."

"Oh, all right." The siblings conceded.

"I opened it and I found memories of The Wizarding War that happened nine years ago. He was supposed to be the one who kills me."

"KILL YOU? Why?"

"To rid Hogwarts of mudbloods, I guess," Hermione coughed at the word she used. "_Muggles_, I mean, sorry for my language. Anyway, he came over to my house to tell me something and I socked him in the noggin."

"Is that how you greet people?"

"That's exactly what he said. Then we got into a huge fight about him and his father and how I accused him of lying."

"And then what happened?" Ginny asked.

"He…" Hermione inhaled sharply. "He kissed me."

Ron cursed under his breath but Hermione ignored it.

"Please don't tell me this is not the part where you don't regret it." Ron sighed.

Hermione kept silent.

"And you kissed him back?"

Hermione nodded guiltily as tears started to fall down her cheeks.

"You know that I have felt so lonely these past nine years, trying to fill the empty spaces with projects and the like and now I've finally solved a nine-year long thought chain that Harry kissed me in the tower!"

"It wasn't Harry, right?" Ginny asked, a bit of jealousy running through her veins.

"No, it was Malfoy." Hermione exhaled.

Ginny subtly exhaled.

"I knew I had to remember that kiss because it was the same one he gave me nine years ago. I tried to forget it and him—"

"Him?" Ron gasped. "Hermione, what exactly did you do with Malfoy?"

Hermione then proceeded to tell the Weasley siblings the entire story of their "platonic" affair and the events left the two with dropped jaws.

"Wow." Ginny widened her eyes.

"The expression 'Wow' is an understatement, Gin." Ron replied.

Silence hung over the three friends.

"Well, if anything helps, we'll support your love even if we hate the git." Ron offered.

"It's not really going to be necessary, Ron."

"Why not?"

"He didn't even _bother_ to visit. He didn't give me anything. He didn't even bother to say hello. Let's just forget about him."

Ron and Ginny exchanged confused looks but decided to keep quiet.

"So, how's everything?" Hermione changed the subject.

"Well, I'm still single," Ron answered. "Ginny here has an ickle fancy for Harry Potter."

"Well done, Gin." Hermione approved.

"You don't mind, do you, Hermione?" Ginny asked. "I know you guys had a thing…"

"I've decided to stick the friendship out with Harry so all is good."

"It's funny, though," Hermione said. "I dreamt about Malfoy yesterday. I was dreaming that he told me I changed his life, how he missed me, and how he thought I was worth it. He also got me this 'rose' that I loved because of its perfect hue…"

"Like this?" Ron held up a rose that he got from her sidetable.

Hermione widened her eyes. _Could this be…?_

"Yes, that exact shade. What a coincidence!"

Hermione laughed anxiously as she took the rose from Ron's hand.

"This was probably just a rose sent in by one of my anonymous visitors."

"That's odd," Ginny voiced out. "Roses like that are quite rare because they bloom in the second week of spring. And they usually are found in a Muggle garden called Shore… Shell…"

"SHAW STREET?" Hermione blurted.

"Yes," Ginny nodded. "Thanks, Hermione. That would have kept me up all night."

Hermione gazed at the rose as Ron fixed the air conditioner. A cold breeze blew and a familiar scent wafted throughout the room. She inhaled wood spice scents.

_So, Draco really came to visit?_ She had tears in her eyes.

"He came." She whispered.

"Who?"

"Malfoy. He visited."

"What? That's impossible."

"Is it really, Mr. Weasley?" Janice cut in.

"Are you for sure, Janice?"

Janice nodded.

"I'm not supposed to tell you this, Miss Granger, but he did come over and he said the most beautiful things. I saw the rose on your sidetable. It had the sweetest smell although I'm not quite sure where he is right now. He left without notifying me."

"Oh, I know full well where he is," Hermione smiled inwardly as she twirled the rose slowly in her hand. "I just hope it's not too late."


	30. Chapter 29: Shaw Street Garden

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

**A/N: Second to the last chapter! Second longest and third favorite. :-) hehe. Thank you ItsOnMars and Ishipdramoine for supporting me always! as well as the other reviewers. :-) ilu all i swr. uploading this and the last because they kind of go together. enjoy. x  
**

Hermione Granger clutched her stomach as she gingerly walked towards the patch of grass in the garden. Even if she knew that her gash could know be called a wound, she had to be extra careful just in case it'd open up again. There could be a possibility due to her anxiety and due to the feeling of a ripping stomach because of her stress.

She was also right in bringing a light blue sweater that matched her white sundress and light blue trainers. Even if it was already the season of Spring, the wind had still been a little nippy. She couldn't risk dizzying herself into another coma when she had just fully recovered.

She marveled at the colors that appeared in the secret spot she used to stay in with her father. She almost wept at the thought of her _Obliviating_ him and her mother and she badly wanted to turn back time as she saw her different facial expressions dissipate from the picture frames like water vapor.

"At least I know they're safe," Hermione reassured her mourning mind. "Safety is better than anything else."

Hermione slowly turned her head around to check if her three best friends caught up with her. She knew that she had a wound to take caution of, but she knew that if she didn't run away from her best friends who had caught her sneaking out of the window a few hours ago, they'd chain her to the bed like those prisoners in Azkaban.

As she walked out of the "secret garden" (that's what her father used to call it), she decided to sit down for a while and _wait_. She knew that the chances of him coming here were six billion to one but she knew that if she didn't give up, he'd come around sooner or later.

Two hours later, the show of butterflies and dragonflies had begun to bore her. Although the sun was still shining, she knew that if she waited some more, she'd return home lost due to night's lack of light.

As she helped herself up, she fixed her hair and started to walk away dejectedly. She gazed at the beautiful array of flowers and attempted to pick one when she heard a buzzing sound.

She screamed upon seeing two bees heading towards her and she cowered in fear. She knew they were ten times smaller than her but she couldn't help it. They had _stingers_.

As the bees begun to threaten her arm with two venomous punctures, she saw a flash of light attack the insects and they fell down to the ground, dead.

She, however, kept her focus on the flowers. She was afraid to turn around because it might've been one of her best friends, ready to take her away to St. Jean Pierre's.

She breathed deeply as she was readying herself to mention any of her three best friends' first names when she breathed in the last scent she wanted to breathe in.

_Wood spice._

Neither Hermione nor the beekiller spoke for a while. She just kept fingering the flowers with her hands and forced herself to admire the array of hues and scents but the woodsy scent still overpowered her nostrils. She felt her eyes sting and she blamed the cologne not because it was intoxicating but because it brought back memories. And nothing was more painful than remembering what was then.

"Are you damn stupid?" Draco snapped, breaking the silence. "I never knew anyone who wouldn't run away from bees."

"Are _you_ damn stupid?" Hermione retorted as she turned around and narrowed her eyes at his grey ones. "You _don't_ run away in bees because they'd attack you due to their sensing fear."

"Oh, and you _weren't _showing fear, Granger? You were literally close to bowing down to the royal bee couple."

Hermione kept silent and Draco felt his anger towards her dissipate. He knew she was still in pain and he didn't want to trouble her further. But then again, she did break his heart. And his heart hadn't healed yet unlike her gash wound. He could barely see it and his heart rose a bit from the sinking.

"Well, are we just going to stay here and stare at each other?" Hermione asked, her head bent down to avoid his irresistible gaze. "Because if we're doing just that, I'd much like to go and return to Saint Jean Pierre's. My friends are waiting for me in my room."

"What are you doing here?" he asked harshly.

She didn't respond.

"Are you deaf?" he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, what do _you_ think I'm doing here?" she responded snappily.

"How should I know? I'm not you."

The two stared each other down until Draco turned around.

"I don't have time for this."

He was about to take the first step when Hermione's soft but sharp voice echoed.

"What are _you_ doing here? Think I was going to come swing by in my condition?"

"Oh, don't patronize yourself, Granger," he sneered. "After all, you were the one thinking that you'd get lucky with an apology from me. Well, tough luck, you did not _score_ today. Not this time."

"I did come here to look for you," she admitted. "I wanted to get some closure for the both of us."

She raised her head and was aghast at the Draco who was standing in front of her.

His hair was not in its usual neat place but was unkempt and uncombed, his eyes were red and dry, and he looked paler. His suit was rumpled too. But the bad thing was, he still looked handsome. She found it hard to tear away from his tempestuous eyes full of sadness and passion. _Oh, those lips,_ she thought as she blinked and looked down again.

She took a step closer towards him and Draco felt his knees weaken at the sight of her. Due to his lack of sleep, his eyes couldn't see very well but now that she was a tad nearer to him, he had a clearer view. Even in her sickly state, her hair was still messily perfect, her chocolate brown eyes were still bright and cheery, and her lips were still a perfect shade of red. She looked every bit as beautiful as he had always remembered her in his dreams. _Not if she admitted that I was handsome first,_ he thought.

"Don't you remember the events that transpired between us these past few months?"

"Are we really going to play the game of Memory, Granger?" he asked snarkily. "I'm not really in the mood for a Diviniation lesson. Trelawney had already freaked the bejabbers out of me in third year."

He shuddered as he remembered the batty old hag (his name for Professor Sibyll) ordering him to stare at tealeaves while his minions Crabbe and Goyle ate them, thinking dried petals were as tasty as Pumpkin Pasties.

"First of all, Divination is not about the past but about the future," Hermione recited. "And you do know my beliefs about the subject."

"I do? Really?" Draco mock-pondered. "No, not really. I don't really recall hearing that because I never really gave a damn about what you say."

His cheeks reddened at the lie.

Of course he did care. He remembered her favorite color, her favorite fragrance, her favorite book, and her favorite flower. Oh, and her favorite lipstick shade and flavor.

But Hermione, however, sucked up the lie like a sponge.

"You don't?" she blurted out disappointedly, and immediately regretted her tone.

Draco frowned.

"Granger, has your comprehension reached an all-time low?" he snapped. "I just said I don't give a damn about what you say."

"Oh," Hermione nodded sadly. "Okay then."

Draco just stared at her.

Hermione smiled feebly as she felt her heart figuratively breaking into tiny little bits.

"Well," she sighed. "I'd better be going."

"I guess so." He replied.

Her smile disappeared.

"See you then, Malfoy."

"See you."

Hermione turned on her heel and was about to walk away when she turned around and saw that he had disappeared.

"It's over then," she whispered to herself. "It's over."

She knew that the old Hermione was supposed to rejoice over the fact that Draco Malfoy had finally stopped bothering her. But instead, she felt a sick sensation to her stomach. This was not the old _her_, that's for sure. She had seen a different side of Draco these past few months and although he did try to kill her, she knew he did not _kill_ her. He couldn't do it. And she knew that she needed to forgive him.

She knew she had driven him out of her house when she had socked him, argued with him, and insulted him. She was supposed to feel victorious that she had verbally beaten him to death. But something about the way he looked at her before he turned to walk out the door. His eyes were full of remorse and sincerity when he had said he was sorry.

"What am I doing?" she exclaimed. "It's my turn to apologize!"

Instead of returning back to the entrance, she went deeper and deeper into the garden and found herself in a myriad of trees and leaves. The massive trees had shaded her from the sky's clock and when she did try to look up, it was dark except for the illuminating light of the moon.

She retrieved her wand from her sweater pocket and said, "_Lumos!"_

The wand lit up obediently and Hermione continued on her journey as she walked deeper and deeper.

She arrived at a patch of tall, leafy plants that sort of covered what was at the other end. She peeked through two leaves and saw a figure sitting on a stone bench near the waterlily pond. Her heart thudded in her chest as she recognized the features.

Wood spice scents filled the air and barricaded her mind from thinking of her apology. _Damn you Malfoy and your wood spice!_ She thought as she stomped her foot involuntarily on twigs.

She saw Draco's head turn to check who was there. She saw him get up and brush his blazer with his hand.

"I thought I'd find you here." Hermione whispered softly.

Draco didn't turn around and she could have sworn he was sniffling. He cleared his throat.

"What are you doing here? I thought you left to get on with your life or something."

"I know."

"Well, hurry up, will you? I haven't got all night."

"It'll just take a second."

Draco crossed his arms and locked eyes with her and she found it hard to speak.

"I—er—um, I know it's hard to forgive me because of what I did and I know that it kind of destroyed the friendship we built these past few months."

"_Kind of_ destroyed? You practically cursed it away!"

"Just listen, please."

Draco scoffed.

"When you left me in Shell Cottage and you slammed that door, I regretted not saying sorry but now that I'm here, and I hope it's not too late, but I'm truly and sincerely sorry for what I said to you. You had protected me and taken care of me and I felt like such a bastard not apologizing. So there."

"Well, guess what, Granger?" he neared her. "It's too late."

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed.

"But at least, I did my part now and I don't feel the least bit guilty."

"Well, aren't you going to go on your way to see Potter and Weasley?"

"Yes."

Draco straightened his blazer and turned his back on Hermione and sat back down again.

He heard Hermione's feet start to move but he heard a pause.

"What are you waiting for?"

"I just wanted to tell you one thing."

"What now?" he groaned as he buried his face into his hands.

"I know that when you kissed me, I had regretted so many things."

"And?"

"Well, I do regret kissing you, I do regret my blushing when you said I was beautiful, and I do regret receiving that rose from you. But the biggest regret I have ever felt is the fact that I hated being alone."

"You were doing fine when I wasn't there."

"And I never got to tell you right then and there that Pansy's the luckiest girl in the world."

Draco's head shot up from his hands.

"What did you say?"

Hermione choked up and he heard her crying softly. His hands were growing numb by the minute.

"I know that I sound so selfish r-r-right n-n-now but I wish that you didn't choose her to be your wife. But you love her and she loves you so I shouldn't be saying these things…"

Draco turned around in his bench and saw her shaking.

"Damn it, Hermione." He heard her mutter to herself.

Draco stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked over to her.

"Is that why you came here?" he asked. "To tell me that?"

She nodded.

"But you're in pain right now. You could've came just another—"

"You're worth it."

Draco looked up and saw Hermione tuck a loose curl behind her ear.

"Excuse me?"

"I heard you say all those things in the hospital. Mind you, it was one really long soliloquy."

Draco scowled at her.

"And you waited four long hours to tell me?"

"It was really sweet of you," she blushed. "I've never heard someone profess that well."

"Professing?" he sputtered. "What was I—"

"But, it's okay, really," she sucked in a choked up inhale. "You're married and you just wanted some closure. You also lied about your not giving a damn about me."

"I was just giving some shmeal about everything that happened and how I dealt with it when I was married to Pansy."

"Well, indeed it closed some things—wait, a minute, _was_?"

Draco nodded.

"You're not married anymore?"

"I'm not."

Hermione gasped.

"Why not? What happened?"

"She cheated on me and I just didn't love her anymore."

"But she said you guys were perfect together."

"But _I _myself didn't think that we were."

"I'm sorry—"

"Well, in a way, you should be," Draco said matter-of-factly. "You have ruined my life. You were the reason why my father's gone mad and suddenly pledged his loyalty to The Dark Lord all over again. You were the reason why I disregarded my pureblood beliefs. You were the reason why I almost died at the hands of my father. You were the reason why I have fallen out of love with Pansy. But most of all, you were the reason why I couldn't sleep at night because I'd stay up thinking about your well-being."

"But was it worth the pain?"

"No, it wasn't worth the pain."

"Oh."

"You were worth _my_ pain."

"Run that by me again?"

"I had suffered so much due to guilt and due to oppression but most of all, I had suffered in a loveless marriage. You ruined my suffering. And for that I am thankful."

Draco reached for her hand.

Hermione giggled softly.

"Now stop crying." He whispered soothingly as he wiped her tears with his finger.

"Why? I'm crying tears of joy."

"Because I don't want your lips to taste salty when I kiss you."

She sighed as he gently pressed his lips on hers and she felt herself weaken. His arms held her waist and she wrapped her arms around his neck as they kissed under the now glinting sky full of stars.

"Finally," she breathed.

"Shh…" he whispered, though his voice sounded muffled. He smiled as he began to kiss her shut eyelids.


	31. Chapter 30: Three Years Later

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)**

**A/N: Harry is the new Minister of Magic. HEHEHEHE. :-) Thanks for all the support, everyone! I'm currently writing my second one so i'll see you all again real soon! :-) enjoy enjoy. x  
**

"For once, you have not come in late for our Christmas gathering," Hermione smiled at Harry. "I'm so glad you're here, Minister."

She hugged him tightly and saw a mock-glaring Ginny beside him.

"Oh, right, sorry, Gin."

"Boundaries, woman!" Ginny mock-snarled. "What would Malfoy think of your behavior?"

"Which Malfoy?" Draco echoed from the upstairs.

"Oh, right," Ron grimaced. "You're married."

The friends gathered in The Malfoy resthouse located two blocks away from the entrance to Diagon Alley.

Draco descended down the stairs and glanced at Hermione who was talking busily to her best friends.

He smiled as he remembered the tumultuous year and thought about how he changed his life for one person who used to be one of his archenemies.

They were currently in Shaw Street and for once, Draco didn't mind staying in a muggle area.

All right, fine, he was itching to get out of there fast but just this once, he'd stay for her.

"What took you so long, Malfoy?" Hermione smiled at her husband.

"Are you talking to me, Granger?" he teased.

Hermione laughed softly as she watched her husband reach the foyer. He walked over to her and kissed her on the right cheek.

"You smell quite nice." He said.

"Malfoy," Ron cringed. "Shut up, will you?"

"Cringe all you want, Weasel," he kissed Hermione again. "But she's my wife, not yours."

"Save it for the bedroom, please."

"Speaking of bedrooms," Draco winked at Hermione. "The party hasn't officially started yet…"

"Oh, bugger off." She slapped his arm playfully.

"Ooh," he smirked. "You don't hit me _that_ hard when we're upstairs."

"Oh, blimey," Ron fake-vomited. "I think I'm going to hurl."

The guests laughed along with Draco and Hermione.

It was the Christmas after nine years of lost friends, lost souls, and lost loves. Draco would not have chosen to be with the Gryffindors but he knew that he wouldn't have picked a better crowd to be with than them. After all, they had started to be nice around him and he did the same for the sake of Hermione.

They all took a seat inside the spacious living room, with Draco sitting on the arm of Hermione's armchair.

"The place looks beautiful, Hermione." Harry approved.

"It's simply amazing." Ron chimed in.

"I love your interior design ideas." Ginny clapped.

Hermione stole a glance at Draco and he caught it with a smile. The place looked really great actually. The mansion was three storey's high and it was a black-painted place, just like the Malfoy Manor. But unlike the Manor's dark interiors, Hermione had requested huge glass windows to be put around the house in order to let some light in.

When one goes inside, the walls of the interior are painted white plus had some frames full of photos and had some flowers in the foyer table, which was the welcoming area. The living room was Hermione's favorite area due to its many bookshelves and comfortable furniture. Tonight, she had decorated (well, charmed, actually) the room with floating stars and conjured a Christmas tree with lights. Snow would fall from the ceiling at five-minute intervals but would never fall to the ground.

"How's Albus Severus by the way?" Draco asked Harry. "Is he just like you?"

"How like me?"

"Well, pricky and gittish."

Harry frowned.

"I'm just pulling your leg, Potter," he passed him a Butterbeer. "No big deal, yeah."

Harry laughed it off after.

The energy and the vibes were amazing that Christmas Eve. Hermione got to catch up with Ginny and it had been not so sufficiently awkward for the boys to talk.

When the clock struck twelve midnight and everyone was either drunk on elderflower wine or really sleepy, Draco stood up from the armchair and smoothed his blazer.

"Draco?" Hermione whispered. "Where are you going?"

"Shh," he put a finger to his lips. "We wouldn't want to wake them up."

"We can't just leave them!" Hermione exclaimed but she smiled while saying it.

"Your mouth says otherwise, Granger," he pulled her by the hand as they walked into the kitchen and out the back door. "Hurry."

They opened the back door slowly and Draco slipped on a blindfold. "Where are you taking me?" she asked while giggling.

"You'll see."

Draco held his wife by the hand and led her cautiously to a spot under a tree.

He untied her blindfold and she found herself sitting under the stars like their first date.

"What's this?"

Hermione's lips parted in surprise.

"Aw, Dad," someone voiced out. "It took you more than a wee bit to come out here."

"Scorpius?" Hermione hugged her son.

"Hello, mum!" he said cheerily.

"Sorry, Scorpius," he smiled as he ruffled his son's platinum-blonde hair. "Your mum was drinking a little bit too much."

"Draco!" she slapped his arm again. "Scorpius, don't listen to your father."

"Should we just make love here? Your slaps are getting better and better."

"Scorpius, your father's an evil man."

"But you chose me, didn't you?"

Hermione touched his nose with her finger and smiled as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Can I give you the flowers now, Mum?"

"Flowers? What flowers?"

Scorpius handed her a bouquet of Hermione's favorite roses and she hugged her son tightly.

"Hey, I helped too," Draco whined. "Don't I get a hug?"

"You'll get one later."

"I'm excited." He whispered into her ear.

"Not in that sense!"

"You still owe me one, Granger."

She blushed.

The stars were starting to glint like they did three years ago.

"Dad, why am I still here?"

Draco patted the empty spot in between Hermione and him.

"I want to tell you a story."

A constellation formed in the sky.

"I already heard it! Must we…"

" Twelve years ago…"

"Aw dad."

But Scorpius listened anyway and in the end, the child had slept on Hermione's lap and the married ones were finally left alone.

"He's still brighter than you ever will be." Hermione smiled as she stroked her child's head.

"I know, but I'm still a star."

"It's been three years since we've been together and you're still cocky."

"I know. And you love it."

"I do." Hermione looked at her husband.

Draco tightened his grip on Hermione's waist as she rested her hands on Scorpius' small chest.

He held his hand out and Hermione interlaced her fingers in between the spaces of his and laid her head on his shoulder.

Draco smiled as firecrackers illuminated the skies. He knew that the gaseous lights blinded the bright namesake of his son but he knew that he was the shining moment for him and Hermione.

But as he looked at his wife who was asleep on his shoulder, he had thought about everything that happened. His father now disowned him, his pureblood beliefs were disregarded, and he tarnished the Malfoy line with a half-blood.

He then saw the faint glint that Hermione's 16-carat rose-colored diamond ring gave off and he shook his head. He finally got what he wanted and needed. This Christmas, gifts weren't important. He got friends, got a son, and the most unexpected woman he called his wife.

"I'm the luckiest bloke in the world." He whispered to Hermione as he kissed the top of her head.

Who knew that saving Hermione Granger would get his life to be formed like this? And for one thing, she returned the favor. She rescued _him_ from a life he didn't want. They were both each other's saviors and they never looked back since.

**THE END.**


End file.
